l'histoire à l'envers

Oh, bummer. They hadn't expected that the end of the school year might be negatively perceived by some. Hadn't fully wrapped her mind around the idea that there were people on campus who would have to return to what was supposedly a clean slate. Would G be gone with Greer's cohort? Would they stick around? Either way, Anya imagined their presence might linger in the hallways, like a draft through a half-open window.

True. His head tilted to the side, eyebrows arching upward in a silent concession. Even after their departure, Anya – like their other colleagues – was still only a text message away. But with each of them going in a different direction, he reckoned it wouldn’t be as easy for G to keep up. “That would require a terribly elaborate surveillance network.” A little chuckle emerged as he pictured an extremely vivid image of a hooded figure sitting inside a dark, musty control room, watching monitors with feedback from street cameras from all over the world, keeping track of Ogden students who had graduated.

As the other's eyebrows rose, so did his own, the barest of smiles pulling at his lips while he looked on in surprise. Did he actually have a decent poker face then, or was Eddie just that clueless? Probably the latter, really, but Monty supposed that he had been in better spirits in recent weeks. He'd been feeling less on edge, less like the world might explode into fire and brimstone at any moment, and more like surviving Ogden was an actual possibility. Maybe that was just the delusion of summer approaching and the weather finally warming up. Monty huffed out a soft breath, shaking his head at the meekly hopeful intonation Edward took on. "You almost make that sound incriminating," he murmured, shooting him a wary look of warning -- don't say that too loud, the hounds will descend upon me.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re, like, behind… the thing.” He sank a little deeper into the cushions. “You just seem a little less paranoid over everything, that’s all.” Paranoid was the keyword there. From the first text message he had gotten – now almost two years into this game of cat and mouse – Eddie took every text message, every little dare, every new accusation sent by G with the utmost seriousness. Any notification from an UNKNOWN ID would flip a switch in his head and fire all the alarms in his brain. A full-blown state of paranoia. Meanwhile, other people seemed to handle G more smoothly – whether this had to do with genuine detachment or just an acute ability to hide distress, he was unable to say. But they certainly seemed to have their shit together when it came to G and their provocations.

a nod of understanding tilted parker's chin. it was almost verbatim what jesse had said before their own brisk escape—remind myself that there’s more than this. the crazy thing was, there was. so much more, so much better, was actually just brimming up around the edges of their lives on campus. the normal things, as eddie had put it, had been so within reach that it actually made the entire ordeal all the more frustrating. maybe the crazy thing, though, was not realizing that all along. maybe they'd all just get through this trauma and leave—and that'd be it.

Getting on the road, driving away, disconnecting for a while – a trend among them, apparently. Only in their early twenties and already desperate to set out, leave the world behind, and live like nomads. Or hermits, like he had chosen to (in the self-imposed exile of his family’s country home). At least this exodus from campus seemed to have done them well… “That sounds nice…” He replied, genuinely, because she had a sort of revigorated air about her. “And how was, you know, travelling with Jesse?” Regardless of having aimed for a cool, unassuming tone, his curiosity evidently transpired. He didn’t want to press her, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder how things had played out…

"It's going to be in a publication?" Milo said, waving his hand, "that definitely qualifies it as an interview, then. I thought I was just giving you a hard time about some assignment. And I think some arts and literature journal would likely have a large crossover with pretentious tennis fans." That seemed like the exact thing someone would have out displaying on some magazine rack. "Unless it's only online, then maybe not so much." You can't display how cultured you are if it was only online. He placed an elbow against the arm of the seat, leaning in Eddie's direction. "What's the questions? About how there is not much of a future to look forward to for our generation, or what?"

Milo kind of had a point. There was, likely, some overlap between tennis aficionados and pretentious art enthusiasts. Edward himself was standing right at the intersection of that god-forsaken Venn’s diagram… “Well, that depends. If a big journal picks it up, then it might be published.” He explained – but that would require him to have a decent article. Meanwhile, all he had were 12 words. “But I won’t mention your name, don’t worry. I’m still trying to understand where this is taking me.” He set the laptop on the coffee table, turning to Milo. Maybe a casual conversation would make ideas flow more naturally than interviewing his friend. “I think we can both agree we all live in very… pressing circumstances, right? What I’m trying to understand is how this affects our – and by our, I mean our generation, in general, – appreciation of art. Like, what kinds of books are you reading? Or what kind of films do you watch? And why so?”

with: @morrisxn02 where: spring fling

The thought came to him more than he would like to admit. As well as the inevitable melancholic feeling of uncertainty over how he would be able to push through yet another year of doing something he hated, but now with only a fraction of the people he loved to help push through. The sadness transpired only in the slightest, though. He didn’t want Anya–whose intentions towards him were as unclear as ever–witnessing too much vulnerability on his part.

A brief and careless 'Wassup?' had been tossed in Edward's direction when he first sat down, collapsing into a nearby armchair and looking on expectantly. In a remarkably out of character moment for Monty, though, he hadn't been bothered by the lack of response. A sense of relief flooded his system instead, body relaxing as he accepted the silently unaware companionship while he could get it. Feet were pulled up to sit criss-cross, body drooping forward to rifle through his backpack and find a book, propping it open in his lap to read. And that's how he sat until Eddie finally spoke -- hunched over like a gargoyle, elbows digging into his knees with his head held up by his hands. Honestly, he needed the interruption.

Regardless of the little knowing smirk on Eddie’s lips – sharing in on the joke which was their collective experience living in the CW purgatory otherwise known as Ogden College – he didn’t really have any evidence to support Monty’s observation about his mental health. Truth was that, in spite of his fondness for Monty, they weren’t particularly close to the point that he had seen the other put up a display of frail mental stability. Instead, Monty always seemed to face the surreal developments of their common narrative with a fine sense of humor and a sharp tongue, which Eddie not only highly appreciated but also found extremely healthy. “If I’m being honest… You…do…” His brows raised a bit to accompany the prolonged movement of his shoulders.

who: @morrisxn02 where: spring carnival

His jaded face suddenly illuminated when their eyes met, finally realizing that the first call he had heard had been meant for him. “Oh. Hey!” A smile greeted her, like she had just brought home wood for the fireplace. The week between the carnival and Spring Break had been a monotonous but busy one. No time to really talk to anyone – only to readjust himself to life on campus after two weeks of an idyllic (and lonesome) getaway. “It was all right. Got to spend some time alone, which was good. I needed some time away from… everything.” His hands made a circular gesture in the air. But truly, this small holiday had felt like flying out into space and coming back two years later to a place you should recognize, but either it, or you, had changed in such a way that things just didn’t feel like they used to anymore. “Rested some, wrote some… You know, lived life like a normal person.” Eddie let out a little chuckle, humored by the baffling realization that any other man’s trash had come to be his treasure and not the other way around. “How about you? What were you up to these last couple of weeks?”

He sat down near Edward perhaps about ten minutes ago because he seemed distracted, and like he wouldn't be a bother. Not that Milo was busy doing anything besides doom scrolling, but that wasn't really the point. So, when his attention was called away from his phone, glancing over towards the other he gave a deep sigh. "Sorry, I'm not allowed to do unauthorized interviews," he said, shrugging his shoulders. That was actually true as well. Especially with everything going on at Ogden his people had become very strict about any public appearances he made. Although this certainly wasn't a public appearance, and he wasn't sure it constituted an interview either. "Do you want me to text you the number of my PR person? They can send you a form or something to fill out." Knowing Eddie the unnecessary red tape might even be enriching for him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, Eddie tries to sell the image of someone who is utterly annoyed with Milo’s response. But, in reality, he’s gotten used to this and thinks these antics are quite funny. “I’m just… I’m just asking you a question. Completely off-the-record, I promise.” He raises a hand in a vow, wondering if it would be useful to explain that he wasn’t actually going to cite Milo’s name in the paper, but rather use his response as a compass for following questions and then for further questions, and so on... Ultimately, however, he reckons Milo is certainly not interested in learning about the purpose of his essay and instead tries to be more simplistic about the whole ordeal, “Plus, this is meant to be submitted to an arts and literature journal. I guarantee that most of the people who will read this won’t even know who you are.” He explains. “Not to underestimate your popularity as ATP’s people’s princess, of course, but it’s an entirely different audience…”

dining hall during lunch sometime [ @morrisxn02 ]

“A lot,” Rhia ascertained with fervor. She felt somewhat like a private investigator, the thrill of uncovering some unseen truth turned this more into a game rather than another blackmail from G. He sat down beside her, much to her amusement. “Well, first… You have to promise me you won’t lie,” she demanded intently and extended a pinky toward him. The pinky hung in the air between them, before Rhia gestured to her hand to indicate they would not continue until he acquiesced to her request. “I can tell when someone lies, y’know! So don’t even try it,” Rhia bluffed, knowing in reality it was quite the opposite.

His face remained aglow, smirk flourishing into a playful smile as she demanded a promise from him. He shook his head, eyes rolling, quenching the impulse to let out a little sneering laugh. Rhia’s peculiar brand of optimism was amusing. Charming. It bordered on idealism. And it was (or at least it seemed) entirely devoid of malice. Early on, back when they had first met, Edward assumed this was merely a fabrication. A result of desperation to seem like an inviting presence. Always nice, always smiling – to try to lure people into her claws and take advantage of them. Now, he realizes that was kind of just who she was… Which didn’t make it any less strange to him, this whimsical behavior of hers. But knowing it was genuine definitely made it more palatable – rather pleasant, even. “I’m a very good liar.” He warned, raising his brows, trying to mirror her playfulness. “But. You have my word that I’ll do my best to be as honest as I can.” Which was a grand gesture of good faith, promising he would do his best. Better than promising he wouldn’t lie just to break the oath as soon as she spilled whatever information she had to share with him.

Diego was surprised when Edward broke the silence between the two of them. He was fine pretending to listen to music while he worked at the chest press, like there was no reason to try to speak to each other. Not that he felt the need to avoid him, neither of them were the others favorite person, but he had nothing particular against Eddie, and he was certain the other felt the same way. Sure. Despite all the pretending in the world his music wasn't that loud though, ear health was important, and he did hear when Eward began to speak.

PSL? That was the school Lucas attended – the Dauphine campus, for their journalism program. Funny how this always happened: how his and Diego’s lives seemed to almost mirror each other in certain ways, without them ever touching.