shaken!

a gasp escaped her at the reprimanding, horrified until he laughed and she recognized the voice. “todd! don’t do that to me!” she whispered, a sudden relaxation coming over her at the sight of her roommate, feeling comfortable when being around someone she knew well. which why there was a small grin on her face even after his teasing. “really?” so much for studying at home. and going to get some dinner sounded much better than staying at the library any longer. “i’d love to grab some dinner. honestly…i don’t remember the last thing the last time i fed myself.” every student’s struggle. 

Todd isn't sure if this is the moment he should mention that aside from no power in the building he also may or may not have forgotten his keys, but eventually decides against it. No need bringing up more inconveniences. "Great!" is what he offers instead. "I think there's a decent burger place next to that pub on Faringdon?" he looks over to her. "But hey, I don't know–– what do you fancy?" he begins heading towards the exit. "Oh," he pauses. "We’ll also have to find a supermarket on the way. A Tesco. We're all out of juice."

Brittany smiled at him, her blearily eyes meeting his as she took in every one of his words with utter sincerity, she wasn’t sure if it was merely the drugs making her feel more appreciated but she thoroughly enjoyed Todd’s company. “I feel the same way too.” She told him earnestly. Moving a little closer to him, wanting to feel skin against hers. “There is nothing more important than trusting someone.” She muttered, closing her eyes for a moment and enjoying all the pictures that swirled before her. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes fluttering open and meeting his once more. “Because I trust you, so much.”

His face lights up, an enormous grin spreading over his features. But his excitement doesn't overpower him–– instead, it gets mildly suppressed by the narcotics, the constant state of mind. He reaches out, careful hands cupping her face, thumb gently stroking against her cheek. "Thank you." he muses. Todd moves from where he's sat to kiss her gently on the forehead. "Thank you." a quick kiss to her nose. One more when his lips gently brush against hers. "Such a lot."

The blonde can’t will himself to tear his gaze away from the beautiful boy, his own blue orbs glistening and merely raking in the other’s presence. When Todd leans forward he reaches forward to place a gentle hand against the nape of Todd’s neck, slender and delicate fingers snaking up as they gently curl within his brown locks, “If you keep this up, I just may kiss you again…and this time it won’t be for cultural appropriation.” Luca murmurs, leaning forward so that their noses were practically brushing, very LITTLE space between the two boys, “Oh yeah? And what exactly do you imagine I’d be doing in aforementioned dreams?”

Todd can feel his body tense up. Occupied by all types of utterly desperate thoughts he lets out a shaky breath; one he didn't even realize he was holding. His eyes close for a brief moment, face moves closer to the other's, noses touch–– personal space has been invaded. "Please," the request comes out in a form of an almost whisper. "Be my guest." A moment passes before Todd lets out a laugh; at himself, at own needy nature. Gaze doesn't leave the other, their eyes locked. He can't help himself from grinning like a proper fool. "You would be a pilot, I reckon. Lad of the flight–– you know how it goes. You'd wear a hat, and pitch black, near soulless sunglasses. And everybody would clap in awe once the plane reaches its' very last destination that night."

Brittany could feel the drugs coursing through her system, giving her the pleasant tingles she constantly longed for and it seemed Todd was feeling the same way, clad in only her shirt, her skirt lying lost on the floor somewhere as she rolled onto her stomach. “Making out is good.” She agreed, nodding her head eagerly as she tried to make sense of her thoughts forming. “Like it’s like- we’re sharing something special, you know?” She rambled. “Making out means we trust each other.”

Eyes are closed, head moves gently up and down with every word she says. He’s processing, sinking into her statement, agreeing as he goes. “Making out means we trust each other.” he repeats after her. He opens his eyes slowly, smiling at the sight of her before him. “Brittany––” despite his fried brain, the words sound oddly formal. A sudden need for the sincerity, the sympathy–– being close to someone. He shuffles closer, taking her hands in his. “I feel content about being here with you tonight.” his eyes never leave her face. “And for that, I am thankful.”

A warm laugh escapes. He has kicked off his shoes–– fully respectful of other people's bedsheets–– and let his body rest against the other's, arms wrapped around the boy; a hug of some sort. "Good evening." polite. "I just came, actually." he informs. "Tonight seemed ominous, and you didn't answer the phone–– thought I'd check up on you." Todd rolls now onto his back, hands on the chest. "Now that I know you're.. safe, I can abandon. Let you rest."

He's sat there, so completely out of it, his bare legs crossed, hands resting at his sides. The pants had been forgotten, kicked off almost the minute they walked in. Comfort is important, he believes. Her hand is now in his, resting, as a thumb draws tiny, invisible circles over her skin. "We could." he agrees, so casually. His tone is soft, voice doesn't go above a certain volume. "I.. like making out." he trails off, matter-of-factly, at this point speaking more to himself, really. "It's authentic." 

Charlie: Ah, Charles, Charlie–– Charlie, you’re absolutely wonderful. Poppy: A wise, beautiful girl.Elena: Always. 

@chcrliehq, @pcppvs, @elenaescobars

A small smile appears on his face at the thought. “She is the most beautiful, intriguing woman I’ve ever seen.” he hums. 

"Please, no, stop.”

"I.. don’t know if I––want to think about this sort of stuff, if I’m being frank.”

No. No. Don’t—   shh. Stop. Over the music, Atlas somehow still hears a slow thud upon watching Todd’s body meet the bar floor. He’s seemingly taken by surprise — but the ever-present glaze over his eyes shows no higher level of shock than the brunette’s jaw hanging wide open at the scene in front of her. Without further deliberation or much rational thought, the Albanian lets out her loudest Spartan cry before charging across the length of the table and practically leaping onto her new target’s back. Fists are flying, and angry grunts leave pink lips as she now goes to blindly yank on some hair — oh wait. Hands awkwardly ghost over a polished head for a beat. She’s never fought a bald person before. Dammit, Atlas. Grab something, fast! Her fishnet knees secure themselves at her prey’s sides, arms instinctively looping around his neck into a chokehold. Now, in other circumstances, the move would’ve worked its magic just seconds in. But also in all said circumstances, she’d never had to face an opponent nearly twice her size before. Forearms begin to wrangle wildly around the man’s tree stump of a neck as she’s noticed he’s finally grasped the situation. Hulk hands begin to pry at skinny wrists, and the girl realizes there isn’t much time before he’d fling her off like some battered rag doll. It only takes a few tries before he finally has the common sense to reach up towards her face. An open palm swings higher up, and thick, nicotine-scented digits graze locks of her hair. Eyes fly wide at the attempt as she ducks left. Close one. Her gaze desperately darts around the reachable vicinity for something… anything! Dark hues through stray raven locks ultimately land on her poor fellow band member, who was just starting to recollect himself off the dirty floor. Had her tresses been any longer, and she’d looked like she just climbed out of a well. An upright palm pleadingly reaches out in his direction, as thick brows knit closer in anticipation. “Todd, quick! Beer me!”

What Todd can clearly tell from behind the somewhat fuzzy vision and ringing in his ears is that there’s some sort of a brawl going on right there. And boy, let me tell you, that does not make him excited, at all. He takes his time, spends some good seconds, maybe minutes, on the floor, curled up in a ball, like a terrified child, like someone who just got fucking knocked out, almost, and had to work on pulling himself back together. The blood is wiped from his face with a sleeve of the jacket. Looks ominous, will probably take a while to wash out. He looks down at his hands. His shaky, shaky hands that look almost pitiful with these new stains of crimson all over them. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on. 

The surroundings are unbelievable. The world has gone mad! He gets to his feet, confused, but in a way eager to help out. He does not want the girl to get a beating, that is the worst case scenario, he believes. Her words don’t affect him until later. As if in utter trance, he reaches for a bottle, snatches it off the nearest table and in what seems utter panic smashes it on the attacker’s head. Glass and ale; that’s what the poor staff will have to clean up tonight. He registers a sharp gasp of some sort. Then, a scream. And then, he’s grabbed by the shoulder. In haze, he watches as another man raises his fist; this huge, made-for-knockouts fist that hits him straight in the jaw. 

elena knows that she’s the one who told him to say it. that the words spilling from his mouth are her own, but her breath catches slightly as he speaks. this isn’t the first time he’s made her feel confused, the little things he says and does more often than not sounding like a confession – of what she isn’t entirely sure. she doesn’t question it, instead she soaks up the feeling of contentment (?) and comes back for more. unable to break eye contact, she nods in agreement. “help me up?” elena makes no effort to move, not realizing her limbs tangled to his own would make it near impossible for him to stand without taking her with him. “i can take the couch,” she offers only because she knows he would never let her sleep there. no, it was more likely that they would both end up huddled together on his bed with her sleeping more comfortably than she ever could alone on her cold egyptian cotton sheets.

"Mhmmm.” it sounds promising, but not much comes out of this idea. His body stays in the exact same position, no movement, nothing that would make it seem like he’s actually alive. Todd breathes in the cold air, the moment, this entire thing they had happening. He feels heavy, dragged down, but in no way does it seem uncomfortable. “I would love to take the train.” he muses. A sudden dream of his, that he just couldn’t help but share. Of course, he’s well aware of the fact they’re just gonna walk these few blocks. “A streetcar. Oh, fuck–– I’d take a streetcar to New Orleans. Crummy, lousy, rancid, and rank!” he raises his chin, looks over to her, and shuffles closer. A subtle movement, he leans in, presses his lips against hers. It’s a short kiss, a soft one, but most importantly; loving. Slowly, he detaches his body from hers, getting to his feet. He offers her both his hands.

if he hadn’t forgotten to switch on his music, that evening, before falling into a light slumber, he would’ve never heard the beat against his door. sitting up, his novel slipped from the bed and fell to the floor with a quiet thump. charlie sauntered towards the door, pushing down the handle and slowly opening it. his head peeked out, then he smiled a little. “oh–– hello,” he rubbed his tired eyes. “what has you here at––,” he paused mid sentence to let a small yawn escape his plump lips. “at this time?”

The enormous, goofy grin on his face reeks of alcohol and sincerity. Todd leans himself against the wall–– it’s more the idea of holding himself steady, rather than try to impress. He’s got different ideas for that. He raises the flowers, offers them to the other. “I brought you plants.” how bold. “Would you fancy a walk?”