╳ ┇traps for troubadours ◥

–– VIRGIN : it’s a word forbidden in the locker room at school. in a world that‘s only large enough to encompass a football field, ten connecting hallways, and a stuffy gymnasium, losing your virginity seems like a right of passage. perpetually changing the subject each time his buddies brought up their steamy rendezvous, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ran out of diversions. it’s not that benji is ‘saving himself for marriage’ like his mother tries to drill into his head. he’s just always finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person BUT perhaps that’s all about to change. “are you gonna keep laughin’ at me ? or am i gonna have to shut ya up myself ? ” his mouth opens and the scent of alcohol exits. this overgrown puppy dog extends his paws to wrap around the other’s hip bones, tugging them closer.

Hadley: And you did too.

a slur of syllables forks from the brims of the accused criminal BUT unfortunately enough for brayden, he hasn’t brushed up on his rosetta stone very much. perhaps that should’ve been more of a priority before he embarked on foreign soil but nonetheless, he’s no match for the girl. if she’s not fluent, she’s damn well close. ‘ kill ? ’ only able to decipher a single coherent word, he’ll make a rather bold move to call her out on the death threats. ‘ you’re going to take my shit and then kill me ? for fuck’s sake -- tell me that ashton kutcher’s going to pop outta’ the woodworks. i feel like i’m on some shitty reality show. ’ lost, drained and incapable of holding a filter, he’ll allow a bubble of laughter to release from the pits of his utter disbelief. ‘ i’m calm. totally chill. i just don’t do too well with liars. ’ it’s nothing but a firm stab to her morality. ‘ i’ve got shit for luck and apparently i didn’t shove my wallet down far enough into my back pocket. i got up. it fell out. you picked it up. ’ a single calculated stride closes the gap between their two frames as his timbre lowers.‘ if you don’t want to admit to it, that’s fine. i just thought i’d save you the trouble of having to dispose of it later. if you were looking to score some loot, you’re out of luck. you know -- unless your idea of loot is condoms, old movie stubs and a grand total of ten american dollars. my wallet may scream ‘leather’ but the contents scream ‘poor kid whose mom bought it for him last christmas.’ ’

‘ COME ON. i saw you pick it up. ’ sleep deprivation coats his features. it’s evening number three in a foreign country and he’s just as clueless as the day the attendants first had to talk him through airport security. ‘ look -- just give it back and we’ll forget about this whole ordeal. ’ brayden’s practically throwing pitches into the dark at this point. the odds are simply stacked against him ; the stranger at the other end of this standoff probably doesn’t even speak english.

Hadley: Not that it necessarily means anything.. other than you're just chalk full of surprises.

–– it seems as though his palms have taken up a new mission of stripping themselves of cells ; large paws causing friction against the denim sheathing of his upper thighs. it’s said that over ( 80% ) of communication is strictly NON-VERBAL and he’ll curse the statistics tonight. as much as his ego ( or lack thereof ) would prefer to speak of self-assurance, he’s emitting nothing but nerves. ‘ i think that’s how it goes, yeah ? ’ two weighted blinks ensue before he ties a noose around his uncertainty. ‘ kiss a lot though. ’ his hand snakes around the soft skin of her neck before his digits home themselves in the golden bed crowning her cranium. ‘ and the bottoms need to go too, right ? ’ 

Hadley: What /exactly/ did you want to talk about though? I mean, I didn't think there was much to say?

Hadley: Do I, Marsh?

Hadley: Talk about what, hm?

radiion ⇾ radio on ⇾ bruce springsteen lyric :)

marley’s in nothing more than a trance -- some sort of anger induced haze that leaves her with tunnel vision. bombs denoting in the form of large textbooks thudding against the bottom of lockers and sneakers tailored for the sole purpose of screeching scuff marks in their wake, these halls are providing her with a ruckus that her ears just can’t seem to tune out. nostrils round from releasing full huffs, it’s only when a familiar paw handcuffs her movements that she comes to a halt. forehead creased with a thick wrinkle, she shakes off his grip before latching her own digits around his wrist. ❛ same shit, different day. ❜ well, she’s not wrong. high school’s nothing more than a cat and mouse chase for her and goddamnit, she’s always the mouse. unaware of the force she’s eliciting, it’s a wonder his hand hasn’t lost it’s circulation. ❛ i didn’t even do anything. it’s bullshit, jude. just -- ❜ the motor of her mouth is mere seconds away from churning out a rant when she jolts his forearm in her direction. the door to a small, cluttered supply closet is flung open. it’s far from a convenient location to hold a makeshift therapy session but wandering the halls is the very reason she’s being condemned with detentions. if a teacher catches a glimpse of her “hanging out” with jude in plain sight, she’ll take that suspension she’s been so heavily protesting. 

‘ just got clocked over the head with a leather slapjack but yup. alright. PEACHY keen. ’