AIN'T NO SUNSHINE

As soon as Matthew was approaching, Gunner was flashing him an apprehensive look. It was probably the way he always looked where Matthew was involved - momentarily, he wondered if the other ever saw Gunner with any other expression on his face. Not that it was Matthew’s fault, it just happened to be the look he gave people he was unsure of - furrowed brows and a mouth pinched at the corners, even when he attempted to give them a smile, “I’m not that little,” he huffed, finding Matthew’s comparison less than funny given the circumstances. Gunner relented somewhat when the taller boy actually managed to tug his umbrella free, even conjuring one of said pained smiles as he did so, “That was cool of you. Thanks,” Glancing between Matthew and Gorham’s entrance a few feet behind them, Gunner could think of about a hundred other unpleasant things he’d rather do than make small talk. He was drenched, though, and more than a little prone to illness when it came to any minor inconveniences that could set off his immune system, “This sounds like the start of a horror movie,” he pointed out, already heading towards Gorham without actually audibly accepting the offer, “If you’re going to sell my body parts you should know most of them are duds. My lungs are probably charred to shit. Brain’s mushy. I think my liver’s pretty intact, though, considering.”

“Bedtime for bozos? That’s, like… the most evil phrase I’ve ever heard. Like, that’s something Gonzo from The Muppets would say,” Lana mused, everything tinged with laughter – like she was balancing right on the precipice, a breath from falling headfirst and indulging it. “You can’t kick me out, what the fuck? That’s literally sick. Throwing an orphan on the streets, like that? I’m just a wittle orphan. I’m helpless. You’re causing emotional distress, I might need, like… a tangerine, to feel better. Do you have tangerines here, or..?” Regardless of everything, her lips tweaked. She’d began sorting a few cards into a stack, messily shuffling – one fell on the floor, to which she simply said “ew” and moved on without fetching. “Who’s the Russian queen? Talking about some random queen while I’m sitting right here? Gross… Very hurtful. I’m sorry I can’t be her.” A rather exaggerated slap saw a card going down. She eyed him to build suspense before finally flipping it over. Lana sucked in air through her teeth, grit for theatrics. “Ooh… The fool. No-one that gets the fool can curl their tongue. That’s a fact, I’ve seen the stats.” Complete lie. All of it. “Very tragic card, especially if you’re a giver.” Lana sighed. “Think it fits? I’ll ask about the fire in a second. I’m hot on this scent, right now. Can’t question where the sight takes me. I’m just the sexy vessel.”

“My dad used to say that to me so I’d go to bed,” Matthew said, poking at her knee with his finger. His nails were bitten down, one of many bad habits that he’d acquired over the years; more harmless than the cigarettes and weed that clung to his hoodies, or the cans that were hidden away under his desk for his rounds after midnight. Leaning back on his palms, he ignored the way that the knots and pattern of the carpet dug into his hands, focusing his attention on wrinkling his nose at Lana’s dramatics instead. “Tiny leetle mouse girl, stuck in the walls looking for cheese girl,” he volleyed back, before laughing. “This isn’t Perkins we don’t have any fresh fruit but as a bonus, I don’t care if you’re here late.” Matt picked up the stray card between two fingers, turning it over to examine the front of it. Towers. Unable to decode anything beyond that, he set it to balance on his thigh. “Tsarina Alexandra? Come on, what’s your major? Everyone knows about Rasputin.” The dramatic reveal made gasp dramatically, squinting at the card. “Shit, think you might be a bit off-- the sight’s got you going cross-eyed, I need to find some tangerines, pronto.” He scrambled up, offering a hand. “I can definitely roll my tongue, but I think you’ve got a vitamin deficiency that needs to be addressed, there’s no time to show and tell.”

Propped up by elbows as she lay on her front, red cowboy boots kicked up in the air behind her, Lana had made herself right at home on a sheepskin rug during the embers of a dying gathering – some student house, she didn’t remember the address or how she’d arrived. Her ride bounced while she was in the bathroom with a stranger. Light glinted off a butterfly clip keeping a lock of hair at bay, hair framed in rogue waves for the majority – subtly damp with rain. “Wanna have your June predicted?” She’d fanned a pack of tarot cards across the carpet, stolen, and was poking at the naked bust of lovers on one without lifting her eyes from the artwork. “Boop!” Distractedly, she’d merited the sound effect to a finger touching a nipple. Moved on without acknowledgement. “Jameson edition. Very high brow, sought after. Exclusive offer. My toes are tingling. I have the sight, I can totally feel it. Doesn’t happen often, so… Come sit, I’ll deal you in. You have to pick a new name for yourself, though. It’s a strict rule of my operation. Keeps things spicy.”

“Y’know Jameson,” Matt said, lowering himself onto the rug beside her, “It’s supposed to be bedtime for bozos. I should be kickin’ you out.” Instead, his attention cast down towards the series of cards that fanned out beside her and he resisted the urge to touch at them himself. He’d had a girlfriend once who’d been into that sort of thing, cards and horoscopes; she’d tell him not to wear blue on Tuesdays or to avoid fish when it was raining-- but the only thing he’d retained, really, was the fact that touching at these sorts of things, was very much not allowed. “Call me Rasputin for now,” he said decisively, giving Lana a sideways grin. “Y’know, lover of the Russian queen, ra, ra, ra. I want to know if I’m going to get employee of the month for this place. We only had one real fire and three false fire alarms in March, and I think that’s a new record.”

This was a first for Gunner, getting something stuck in a tree like something out of a cartoon. It was ironic, too, the fact that he was struggling to grab his umbrella again as rain started to come down, dampening the bark that his beaten up sneakers would’ve struggled to get a grip on even if it were dry. With a grunt, Gunner toppled to the ground once more - he’d climbed a lot of trees in his youth, but apparently it wasn’t his strong suit anymore. Frowning up at where his umbrella rested in a branch just above his reach, like it was taunting him, Gunner glanced at where someone was approaching while he was rubbing at his now bruising elbow, “I thought it’d be a good idea to bring my umbrella in case it started raining. Now I lost my umbrella and I’m soaked. I can’t help if I’m the shortest man alive, it’s - it’s genetics!” @radopens​

“Aw, bud, lemme help you out here.” Matthew had observed most of the scene from inside of Gorham, watching from his post (slumped behind the desk relistening to an Alex Jones episode) as the other male struggled under the downpour. It was when he’d fallen that he’d sighed and shoved himself up, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head as he darted into the rain to see if Gunner was okay. “This is a real sad scene, you know. Like one of those shows where the little guy keeps getting his head conked by an acorn, or something.” He was tall, enough so that he could easily amble up to curl his fingers around the handle of the umbrella, tugging it down with a few sharp jerks. With it in hand, he grinned, miming a scene from Mary Poppins before handing it back. “Don’t know what good it’ll do now that you’re all wet.” Matt let out a laugh, “There’s towels inside if you want one, I feel bad for ya.”

Couple of brewskis, maybe a box of pizza on the back of a truck with a blanket on a starry night. Keep it simple, y’know?

Dom probably. Abel’d help me hide a body, but Dom’s the type to make sure that a murder never happens in the first place-- y’know? He’d keep me accountable and stuff. / @domfm @abelromanov

          she’d been sort of ignoring the male since their ride in on the bus together. not neccessarily on purpose, as jetta was much more fond of matt than she let on, but a girl like her got distracted on a daily basis. whether it be by people  (  other guys  )  or fruity umbrella drinks on the beach. however, the minute she laid eyes on him  (  his fucking  back muscles  to be percise  )  gathered among a small crowd around the bonfire, she lit up like she was fucking on one. mostly finished drink was ditched on a fold-out table as she moved towards him, walking fast. a girl on a mission. hands were eager to touch him, both wrapping tight around his torso as her head became nustled beneath his arm.  “  hey sexy.  ”  she purred, a giggle threatening to spill over her pursed lips as she peered up at him.  @matthew-kellys​

for the most part tiago tried to avoid sports, just out of habit, used to trying to skip gym class so he could go flirt with girls without being sweaty and gross, but beach volleyball was a whole other category. like with most things, he was a bit of a natural, and his team has pretty much demolished the others. by the time everyone was done cheering, he waved his hand refusing a rematch, all that exercise under the sun having exhausted him. “you got some water in that? i’m on the verge of death, but it was worth it, did you see? think we put on a nice show,” he said, sitting down next to matt. @matthew-kellys​

It wasn’t like she was hurrying to another class or anything, just dropping off some notes to a classmate before they had to go. Well, in a way maybe there was some form of rushing involved but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the swinging door smacking her dead in the face and causing her stumble back a few paces. “I think you’d know if you killed me but––shit, maybe in a few minutes.” She holds her head, blinking up at the other with furrowed brows.

“Are you concussed?” He assessed the spot that had been the main source of impact, before realizing that he wasn’t sure what it was that he was looking for. Instead, Matt snickered, revisiting the memory now that he was sure she was going to live and be fine. “I wish you would have seen that, you looked like a real life cartoon. You could have even had an exclamation point over your head.” He looked back at Monet, before smothering his laughter. “Maybe you should sit for a second.”

her nude heels clanked with every step she took and her pale pink skirt flowing in the wind as she climbed the entrance stairs. amethyst’s painted fingers wrapped around the door handle just as the doors flew open. the redhead fell back, her heel catching on the top stair. she tumbled down the first two stairs, her purse and it’s contents scattered. her blue hues blinked at the other before an idea sprung into her mind. amethyst took the opportunity, her hands wrapped around her ankle as her eyes directed to it. “not dead.” she let out, her attitude apparent. “my ankle doesn’t feel that great.” her eyes directed to to him once more from under her eyelashes. “the least you could do is help me after knocking me down.” a small smile appeared as she raised one of her hands to push her hair behind her ear. 

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