❛ + vagabond ! ❜

hannah stepped into the secondhand bookstore to shield herself from the sudden fall of rain, immediately gravitating toward the astronomy section to see if there was anything that might be of interest to her father. she couldn’t help but catch sight of a man standing idly by. he was repeatedly thumbing through the pages of old books and soon his sharp uneven breaths were all hannah could hear. they echoed in her mind, repeating like a buddhist mantra. his ritualistic motions reminded her of herself – – or what she hoped was her former self. tilting her head slightly, she soon recognised his features. “ … kale? ” hannah greeted softly, “ you okay there, love? look like you’re on the hunt for something. ” she paused, trying to muster a sentence that might distract him from his panic. “ like john cusack searching for that book kate beckinsale left behind. destiny, or whatever. ” 

It was sobering to realise that his peculiar actions where under observation, his expression paling even further when he realised it was Hannah — a former…fling didn’t seem an apt word for what they had, something fun that sizzled when they realised they were both not for relationships. Whatever she was, she was a ‘friend’ now at the very least, and the only friend Kale allowed to see him at his worst was probably somewhere far, far away. His memories failed him, but he could piece together that much. If there were nothing wrong there, Wesley would have been there while he navigated the fog, lost and dazed. “Hannah,” He acknowledged, wrapping his arms around himself to refrain from reaching for another book. He gave a small laugh at her analogy before shaking his head. “No, just looking for a distraction, I guess. Got a lot on my mind. How’ve you been?”

Zayn didn’t know how he’d gotten here but what he did know is that it’d been a while since the last time he actually sat down and read a good book. He moved through the aisles absentmindedly, looking for a genre he would actually enjoy reading. He stopped though before he could find it and looked at the familiar male, one he hadn’t seen in quite a while. He moved toward him, a light smile on his face. “You been hiding from me or what?” he joked.

Three months gone like three blinks of an eye, like three drops of rainwater, three inhales in your sleep. The chunk of time he’d lost felt like a torn-off limb, like there was something missing. His shoulders tensed at the familiar voice, his eyes shifting over to Zayn with immediate recognition. Kale schooled his features to something more casual. Zayn was a friend in the loosest sense of the word, the only sense of the word that defined Kale’s friendships, but he didn’t need to know the grim reality he was still struggling to come to terms with. “You got me. We started playing Hide and Seek drunk and I gave up. You suck by the way.” He turned to face him properly. “Browsing, I see. Anything in particular?”

you’ve been in a persistent vegetative state, mr. waxwing.

there was a ringing in his ear all of a sudden and he grit his teeth to keep it from distracting from his task. for how long? he’d asked.

three months.

\+ do u remember the iconic engagement party of payton and atlas in which kale exPosed 5 people and went home

well

+ he grabbed his keys and the rest of his whiskey and set out on the road, fully intending to drive back to la......drunk

+ he didn’t make it, obviously, getting into a pretty nasty accident

              A scoff parted her lips. Nobody’s keeping her here, that’s rich. “No, actually you are the only reason I’m even here is because of you.” Not necessarily true but Ophelia cannot be bothered with the technicalities of the situation. “Since the moment I came back you’ve been nothing but cold and Louis? I get it, I understand that one he can hate me as much as he fucking wants — but you? What the fuck did I do to you to get all hostile? Leave? As if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. As if you’re not.” In reference to his last message. “You don’t know shit about what suits me or not, Kale. You’re over here dropping the biggest bombs. Knowing Louis is alive, giving me names like Jesse, and dead bodies? C’mon, the only one being stupid is you because if you have something to say to me just spit it out, can’t get any better than this.”

“Thank you,” Louis murmured bashfully to a musician he’d been a longtime fan of. He had been expressing sympathy for his most recent brush with danger. It was a little grounding to know how many people who never had a real conversation with him were somehow invested in his health and safety during his absence. It made him feel a little less alone, even though his fame played a big role in garnering sympathy. All that concern was still real. He was torn out of his thoughts when he heard another voice, a more familiar one, turning to look at Kale - no, Michael’s sour face. His eyes narrow. “You’ll live. Maybe you can write about this in your little book. ‘Louis William Tomlinson, middle name’s irrelevant, wouldn’t step away from me while I was trying to leave a club. What a fucking waste of skin.’ Just a little soundbite for inspiration.” With that, he turned back to his previous conversation partner, who looked nothing short of bewildered. “So, anyway, I saw your show and I really quite liked it. We should jam together sometime.”