𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕥

It was colder outside than Ollie had thought as he walked from the dorms to the nearby 7-11 to get a Big Gulp late at night, and back again. He’d spent more than enough time in his room, really only leaving for one of two reasons. Going to class, or visiting Monty(/replenishing his supply). But he couldn’t last all week in a dark room sitting in front of a computer screen working out this phone tracking issue, and sorting out any pre mid-term issues he was having before that time of the year came up out of no where, like it seemed to every year. It was one of the busiest times of the year for his business, but also one of the most lucrative, so he wouldn’t complain. It was nice to get some fresh air, despite the nearly freezing temperatures as he walked along the campus sidewalk back towards Waverly, chewing on the bright red straw from the large plastic cup in his hand, slowing when he started to notice foot steps behind him. “Please tell me you’re following me because you’re planning on stabbing me, that will solve so many of my problems,” he said, turning to see who it was behind him. “Please?”

          ———      ⁂      Quinn had spent the day now gone at her apartment in town. She needed to decompress. The amount of studying she was forcing herself to do wasn't healthy. She knew that, she did, and yet she carried on. Part of it was the same anxiety she had carried her whole life: that at some point, she would get complacent and fail horribly for everyone to see. She had come so close a few times. Mostly it was a distraction. If Quinn worked herself to the bone, there wouldn't be time to think about her missing cousin, the heightened public interest in her family, her tangled feelings. It had taken accidentally crashing in the library last night for her to finally take a day off. Was it a waste of a day? Absolutely. But that was what she needed. Challenging herself to a chocolate macaron recipe by Pierre Hermé, the sun had long set by the time she had 24 little iced meringues she was content enough with. 

                                     Walking back to campus, sealed tupperware hugged tightly in her arms, Quinn was wrapped in a thick woollen coat that grazed her ankles. She imagined she might cut an intimidating figure in the shadows if she wasn't the height of nothing. The sophomore hadn't noticed it was Ollie walking ahead of her until he turned around. She grinned.                        ❝ Would you like to bleed out fast and get it over with           or nice and slow so you can ponder over all your terrible life choices ? ❞

JESSICA SULA in PANIC

the commons bustled with just about all of the energy one could expect after a night like halloween. that was to say, not that much. students mulled around the coffee shop, nursing hangovers and trying to finally jump start their day, now that it was past noon. and though parker had washed off all of the spare glitter and showered away all of the alcohol smell one possibly could, spiritually, she was right there with them. one knee bent towards her chest, she’d been curled into the far side of an otherwise vacant couch. red, now loose curls—the remnants of last night’s hairstyle—shielded her profile as she gazed down at a small stack of papers.

august 29th, the letters, the first day of school…

drawing and releasing a deep breath, parker rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked up. eyes glazed over the space without much purpose until locking eyes with someone nearby. her head shook and eyes blinked, snapping out of her daze with quiet laughter. “hey,” parker called out, resting her forearms over the paper. “sorry, i’m lagging by, like… thirty seconds today.”

          ———      ⁂      Quinn's panic attacks had a certain rhythm. First - the freakout, the reaction, the fight or flight. Adrenaline keeping her buoyant through stormy waters. Then - the crash. After what was a horrible experience at KKG's Haunted House, she took an uber home and nosedived into bed. While her peers partied, she overslept, which she had to admit to herself was very Quinn Morrison.

                                     She'd found herself a corner in The Commons and made a home of a grand leather armchair, an americano occupying one hand (in a reusable cup of course) and a book hinged open with the other. Her eyes were beginning to sting from reading. She looked up from the page and connected with Parker. The junior wasn't looking quite her usually pristine self. It was in the small details: slightly puffy eyes, fallen curls, no glow. Quinn smiled sympathetically.

                                                 ❝    Hungover  ?    ❞