your mess is mine.

Silvia sat at a table alone in Cuppa Joe Cafe, revising the recording of the days’ rehearsal. She had both headphones in, her face staring at the paper on the table before she that had her messy handwriting scribbled all over. She scrunched her face a bit when she heard one of the students hit the wrong note. It was always a stressful season, she had to make sure everyone was on key, no one forgot their words, the lighting was working, the props were being made, costumes altered, and to top it all off she was quite the perfectionist. Silvia let out a groan, “I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to correct that note for her,” she muttered to herself as she paused the audio and pulled her headphones off, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

It’s impossible for him not to pretty much gawk at the woman from the very close proximity of where he ‘s seated just a table away, studying her sculpted but still feminine features like she’s a piece of architecture from one of the classes he used to take. And when she speaks, it’s only then that he snaps out of his near-stupor. “No, I wasn’t staring,” he says, straightening his back in his seat. “There was just... a huge ass bird at the window. It’s gone now. Whatever.” 

Vince resists the urge to roll his eyes at Logan’s explanation, though he doesn’t really know what he was expecting. A serious explanation? No. that wasn’t really Logan’s thing. “Yes.” He finally admits, turning to meet the other man’s gaze with his, tongue running over his lower lip nervously. “The way things ended between us…I don’t see why you’d want to see me. Or come in, I suppose.” Perhaps he really had been curious as to see whether or not he still lived where he did, or perhaps Logan really did just want to see his sons. Whatever the reason, it left Vince feeling confused, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he falls silent again, letting out a sigh.”So you’re just passing through Crownsville then?” He finally asks, his voice quiet. 

“Yeah, well...” He shrugs it off because he does know the reason why he’s here, why he didn’t end the conversation five minutes ago, only that it’s between himself and his conscience. He stuffs his hands in the inside the pockets of his jacket, suddenly feeling too exposed, too vulnerable for his liking. This is Vince’s territory; this isn’t a busy coffee shop or a crowded airport where he could just disappear behind doors and pretend he never saw him in the first place, and frankly, he feels quite bare. “Visiting family,” is what he says, and it’s probably the first thing he’s told him in the past couple of minutes that isn’t laced with his trademark juvenile humor because it’s mostly true. “My grandparents live here, remember? Got too much pension they don’t know what the fuck to do with so they’re inviting the prodigal grandson over. Lucky me, I guess.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “What about you? What are you, uh... what are you doin’ these days? Still tryin’ to predict the future from your magic ball?”

She raised a brow at him, “Well, I try my best to balance the flavors so the lime doesn’t overpower it but neither does the sugar. Long, long nights of perfecting the recipes.” Katherine grabbed one of the cupcakes with the serving napkin and placed it into a little baggy for him. “I do. I get up at the earliest hour and I try to bake as many pastries as I can manage to, to ensure freshness. It’s a lot of work but, the look on my customers’ faces when they take that first bite is so satisfying. Can I get you anything else? Perhaps you’d like to stay for a coffee?”

“Made with TLC,” he mutters, glancing up briefly at her before standing up to his full height. He doesn’t know her, and this is perhaps the first time he’s ever been to this store, but immediately, he senses something likable in her. Maybe it’s the way she speaks so proudly about her work. Or how she doesn’t immediately say that she’s married or has a boyfriend even if there might be some flirtatious undertones in his words. Somehow, he appreciates that. “Whoa, slow down, I haven’t even gotten your number yet,” he quips. “But yeah, sure. I’d love some coffee. What time do you close, anyway?”

Vince can’t even begin to wrap his mind around what’s happening right now. He never thought in a million years that Logan would be standing in his living room again. He couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly how he was feeling in the moment, equal parts nervous and confused and something else he couldn’t place. 

Taking a breath,, the older man takes a moment to look at Logan, to really look at him. He looks good, but that’s no surprise. He had always looked good. The question about his boys takes Vince by surprise, though it really shouldn’t Logan was always good with them. “They’re playing in their bedroom.” He finally says, his voice quiet. “What are you doing here, Logan? I know it’s not because you suddenly missed my kids.” 

The question comes around once again, and he can’t blame Vince for being skeptical about the reason why he’s here. The real reason, anyway, but hell would freeze over before he would say it out loud, much less admit it to himself. Yes, he’s back after checking himself into rehab for the second time in three years because he’s a pathetic loser who wants control over everything and everyone but can’t even look after himself enough to stay alive. He’s a walking disaster, and he’s already bringing storm warnings just being in the same room as the man he once loved but whose heart he broke. And so it’s only fair that he feels a tinge of sadness that Vince doesn’t even ask if he wants to see the twins. He’s lost that privilege a long time ago.

“I’m here ‘cause you invited me inside,” he says, cheekily, but tries to keep a straight face as he does. He could never take anything seriously. “Visiting my grandparents and was in the neighborhood. I told you. Is that so hard to believe?”

Katherine chuckled shyly, she could feel her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. She shyly made her way back over to behind the display case and tucked her hair behind her ear, “I am! They’re the last ones of the day. I have chocolate, Vanilla, Red Velvet, Peanut Butter, and Key Lime,” she replied.

There’s a hint of a smirk that forms on his lips when he notices her flustered reaction, more because he’s able to elicit that response from her than anything. “Key Lime,” he repeats, lowering himself so that he’s hunching forward slightly to get a better look at the cupcakes. “Not really a fan of lime on pastries. Looks good, though. You make these yourself?”

It’s almost absurd that Logan implies that Vince wouldn’t have moved on since their breakup years ago, and it takes all that the older man has to keep from rolling his eyes, shutting the door behind Logan after he steps inside. “I suppose I am.” He murmurs, moving to put Gia down in her swing instead, fiddling with the straps a few moments longer than necessary before turning to look back at the blonde, lips pursed slightly. He doesn’t really know what to say, realizing that inviting his ex boyfriend inside might not have been the best of ideas. It’s too late to take it back now though, with Logan already inside.

“A jacket?” Vince echoes, brows knitting together for a moment If Logan had left a jacket, it was probably long gone by now. “I have no idea, to be honest. You know where the coat closet is though if you want to look.” 

He stands completely still, more out of keeping to his own personal space than out of reverence for Vince’s home until the other male returns his attention to him. This isn’t exactly the scenario he’s pictured (out of dozens, now that he thinks about it) when he imagines meeting Vince again. In his fantasies, he’s a successful architect, which he gets to brag about when Vince runs into him at a club in the city, along with whoever his new arm candy would be at that moment that Vince ends up dying of jealousy. Or he’s at the airport, hurrying to catch his flight to Paris when his mother finally invites him to live with her, and Vince chases him towards the terminal where he admits to having made a mistake in letting him go. But assessing things from where he is now, he realizes that 1) Vince probably isn’t the type to go clubbing at this point in his life; 2) His mother hasn’t called him in about a year and; 3) He’s now standing in his ex-boyfriend’s living room pretending he’s lost a jacket just so he can stay for a bit longer.

“Forget it,” he says, not wanting to seem even more pathetic than he already looks, the image of rummaging through the guy’s closet for an imaginary item making him cringe internally. He’s gained a smidge of self-control over the years. “It looked better on you, anyway. Or whatever.” He shrugs, shifting his weight on one leg as he’s been standing for a while. “The boys around?” He looks over the room and tries to see if there’s any sign of the twins.

Artie picked the book down after he slid it across the counter, her eyes scanning over it quickly before placing it to the side. “Well I’m afraid we’re not really supposed to do returns unless there’s proof of purchase..” Her gaze lifted to the man. “My boss isn’t here today so I can offer you an exchange? That’s the best I can do, sorry…”

He rolls his eyes and lets out a huff in frustration, staring at the book as he tries to come up with something charming out into the predicament he’s found himself in. “Listen, I’m sure you’ve had people try to force you into things you’d really rather deal with alone,” he begins, now hunching over the counter with his forearms flat on the surface. “I mean, you’re working at a bookstore, I imagine this is either something you’re only using to pay for some bigger dream, and you’ve got people giving you crap for working towards that. Or this is exactly where you want to be and you’ve got people on your back for working here.” He smirks slightly, hoping he’s striking some sort of chord with the girl. “Either way, you get me, right? So I can get rid of this goddamn book and get money for it?” 

hi, it’s frankie aka @milesheppard​ & i literally just realized now that my fcs are timmy and armie and i’m laughing at myself. ANYWAY, this is a hundred years too late but here’s a brief intro on logan. i’ve played him before (a couple of times w/ different faceclaims, but was primarily armie) and he was a lot of fun so i’m bringing him here! some info:

[ armie hammer, thirty two, cismale, he / him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ logan quinn ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ two weeks ], and you can catch them around town working as an [ unemployed architect ]. I hear they’re known to be [ sociable & adroit ] and [ facetious & hedonistic ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ iced coffee, mint candies, aftershave, t-shirts underneath suit jackets, pomade collections, aviator shades ].

drugs tw !!

“Yes? I live here?” Vince is confused by the thought that he would’ve moved, though it’s not really like he and Logan had kept in contact after their break up. “So you just…showed up at my house hoping someone else lived here?” It doesn’t really make sense, but Logan did what Logan wanted, he always had. “Um, come in? Don’t just…stand there.” Motioning the blonde in, he bounces Gia in his arms, trying to keep her from getting too fussy. “Did you want something?” 

He doesn’t notice the child in his arms, not right away, but when he does, the words fail to form in his head. At least, not properly. “Another?” he says, like a chimpanzee just beginning to learn how to speak. “Really, Vince, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought, really.” There’s a thought submerged in his words that he doesn’t want to acknowledge because it would mean that he’s found someone else in the wake of him. And he doesn’t want to show that he’s bothered by it, he’s always been bothered by it, after all this time, but now the man is in front of him and he doesn’t seem to have aged a day and he looks good—god, he looks good—and none of it dares to be said out loud, let alone be shown in any gesture, so he keeps his feet firmly on the porch, declining the invitation to come inside.

“Nah, I was just lookin’ around. Like I said, I was in the neighborhood, and I was curious if you moved or whatever.” He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent. Eyes discerning the young child, he sees most of Vince’s features in her, and a someone else, but he’d rather not think about who. There’s no question that it’s his, though, he’s sure about that. “On second thought,” he begins, almost absent-mindedly. “Did I... ever leave a jacket here or...? I think I lost it, the maroon one. I dunno, could’ve lost it somewhere else, but wouldn’t hurt to look, would it?” He’s owned no such thing, but he’ll admit he wants to be around Vince over his dead body.

It had been quite the busy day for Katherine, and as it reached closing time and people began pouring out of The Mad Batter, she decided it was time to have some self indulgent fun. She made her way over to the record player and switched the current record from Dream A Little Dream Of Me by Ella Fitzgerald to Easy Living by Billie Holiday, another one of her favorites she enjoyed playing. She closed her eyes as the soft piano began playing and swayed back and forth waiting for the lyrics to start.

She made her way back over to the counter top where she started to clean up, and sing along to the lyrics. The blonde had completely forgotten that she hadn’t locked the door and jumped when she heard the little bell above it ring. She cleared her throat and rushed over to the record player to stop it, “I’m so sorry about that, I forgot I hadn’t locked the door.”

He smiles at the sight of the blonde woman seemed to be a little lost in her own world, unaware of his presence until he acknowledges her. “Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’m personally a fan of Miss Holiday,” he says with a quiet smile. “You still sellin’ those cupcakes?” He gestures to the baked goods behind the display case.

Artie had spent most of her day either lounging about the counter or returning books to their rightful places. She liked working in the book store, it was usually peaceful unless a rowdy bunch of teenagers came in to mess things up. She had her back to the front counter as she labelled a few new books, completely lost in her own world as she placed one to the side and grabbed another. She didn’t realise there was another person in the store until she heard someone set something down on the surface behind her. She turned quickly, an apologetic smile on her lips. “Sorry, I hope you haven’t been standing there for too long…”

Marching into the store with the same arrogant air he usually carries around him, he goes right up to the counter and rings the bell hurriedly. Once he’s greeted by the clerk, he removes his sunglasses and slides the book over towards her, gesturing at the title with his shades. “Yeah, hi, I was wondering if you accept returns without a receipt? I got this book as a gift but I don’t really plan on reading it, so.” The 30-Days Sobriety Solution, as the title suggests, isn’t a very appealing idea to him.

max sat himself, things had gotten a bit much for him today but as much as he was enjoying his time making new friends in crownsville, it was still new to him. h’ed been here a week, if even that and he was finding it extremely difficult to fit in and enjoy himself other times. but he was sitting alone, his back against the wall as he listened to music and read his book.

With his phone having just died in his hand, he’s now staring at a blank screen in the middle of texting this guy he’d been trying to flirt with, and he lets out a frustrated groan. He’s hot and bothered and in public, anxious at the thought of weather or not the guy thinks he’d lost interest in him. Looking around, he quickly approaches the first person he sees. “Kid,” he says, trying to call his attention from a considerable distance, and repeats his greeting once he’s closer. “Hey, kid, you got a charger I can borrow?”

It’s another normal day at the Gagliari household - Matteo and Rafael are playing together in their bedroom while Vince is feeding Gia, laughing along with his daughter as she tries to avoid taking another bite. “C’mon, sweetie. Just one more.” He coos, smiling when she accepts the bite of food. “Thatta girl.” 

After cleaning her up, Vince picks his daughter up, holding her in his arms as he moves towards the living room to get a toy for her to play with. It’s then he sees someone standing at their doorstep out of the corner of his eye, which is a little strange because he doesn’t remember inviting anyone over, but maybe it’s someone who’s lost and needs directions or something. So he goes to open the door, only to find a surprise on the other side, and not a good one.

“Uh.” Eloquent, Vince. The older man thinks, shaking his head at himself. “Logan? What are you doing here?” 

He’s normally quick to think on his feet, always has something snappy to say in response to anything anyone ever asks him, but his brain draws a blank, and he’s left with a gape between his lips that makes him look like a perfect impression of a goldfish with the stare of a deer caught in headlights. “Vince,” he says his name to try and bring himself back into the present. He stands there, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his cardigan. “I was just… around the neighborhood. Didn’t really think anyone lived here, still. Thought you’d probably come back to the circus life,” he says, words unfiltered as they come straight from his brain to his mouth. “You’re still here.” It comes out matter-of-factly, and with some condescension he purposefully makes evident. Big talk for someone who’s been readmitted to rehab a couple of months ago.

“Yeah, I’m sure” Brock’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at the other male who was coming across as condescending. Sure, the other male had the height advantage over him, but that didn’t dissuade Brock. “Considering this was my Dad’s shop until a few years ago, I’ve been around for a bit” he laughed, trying one last time to lighten up the vibe between them.

“I see.” He runs his tongue over the inside of his cheek as his eyes continue to scan across the room despite having just confirmed that the person he’s looking for never worked here. “Well, too bad.” He returns his gaze towards the boy, giving him a short nod. “I’ll probably just get a nice, clean shave since here I’m here, anyway.”

The barber looked over at the other male who seemed to be mistaken. He shook his head and let his hands rest on his hips, “No, man, I’m sorry” he laughed, “Hasn’t ever been a Quentin who works here” he explained, his eyebrow cocked. He was curious as to what the other male was looking for with this Quentin.

With a slight tilt of his head, a crease forms between his brows. “You sure?” His inflection rises when he tries to confirm and sizes him down— he couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. “How long’ve you worked here, anyway?”

His fingers trace along the embossed letters, as if he’s trying to relieve Vince’s presence through the sense of touch, and doesn’t notice the front door opening until he does, and by then, it’s too late for him to dive into the bushes and hide. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, frozen in place.

@vincegagliardi 

seori was working, her hand rested on her lap. sometimes it was difficult to keep her hand away from her belly, but nobody knew yet, especially her dad, but  her other hand had placed the flower crown on top of her own head and she smiled to herself. today had been pretty slow and their wasn’t anyone really coming in so she’d made her own crown out of boredom, not hearing the bell above the door going. 

Yes, he’s been in Crownsville for two weeks and still hasn’t paid his grandparents a proper visit besides having lunch when they picked him up from the airport. He’s insisted on staying at a B&B, partly because he’d rather not have his every move watched like there’s a surveillance camera he doesn’t know about, and mostly because he’s really not up for a conversation. Still, it’s been long overdue, which is how he finds himself in the floral shop with the intention to pick the most beautiful, most expensive flowers that could compensate for the silence. “Knock knock,” he greets the store clerk, whoever that is, though it’s only him and a young girl in the room. “Whose dick do I gotta suck to buy some flowers around here?”