#blckchase

Ingrained habits are hard to shake. Captain has a few, most of then nasty and a little self-destructive, but they’re his and he probably isn’t going to look into righting them anytime soon. 

One habit that isn’t completely bad stems from childhood, a father dedicated to the military and absolute physical perfection drags his son out every morning, every other evening, for punishments, for some kind of sick and twisted fun, to exercise. 

They would go to the gym. They jog around the block over and over and over again. He learned just how to push himself to the brink. Captain learned where the brink was. 

And sometimes he crosses it. 

The halls are empty at this time in the morning and his t-shirt is sticking to his back and god, was his ankle throbbing. 

This is what he gets. This is exactly what he gets for drinking late and trying to sweat through a hangover the morning after. 

A sprained ankle. 

“Only me.” Captain hisses, taking another limping step, small and wincing with a hand braced heavily on the wall. 

@blckchase

home is supposed to be the place where you feel most comfortable, but if it isn’t really your home, then where are you supposed to feel safe? for the two years she’s been in the hive, she’s tried time and again to make a home out of what she’s been given, but time and again, night comes to remind her that she no longer has a home anywhere. sometimes it’s her thoughts that keep her up, and other times it’s the refusal to go to sleep. tonight, it’s the nightmares, glimpses of her former life that should be happy, reminders of who she used to be, the people who loved her, but just live everything else, the game has taken those from her too, twisted them and distorted them so that they no longer resemble what she remembers.

the air is clearer outside anyway.

the almost inaudible sound of footsteps on grass is almost calming, slowing her racing mind. it’s not enough to stop them, but at least she can find herself again within them, no longer lost in the jumble. the air is cool at three in the morning, and though she knows she’s still trapped within the rules of the game, it’s almost freeing to be outside at such an ungodly hour.

with no direction, she wanders, hair tucked behind her ears, eyes unfocused and heavy. she has no idea where she’s going, and she supposes it’s some sort of poetic justice because she’s had no idea what she’s been doing for the past few months, without a focus, without a goal. for how long she goes without a destination, she’s unsure, but when brown eyes settle upon a familiar figure, she finds it, the unplanned but totally expected.

@blckchase bribed me with love for a starter !

from what he can recall, saint never grew up around alcohol. his parents took him to the occasional formal or he would play somewhere they were serving fancy champagne or expensive wines, but that was all he ever really came across. he wasn’t overly curious. saint never went digging through his parents’ cellar. the pianist had an inkling of what was down there so he didn’t really think he needed to see it with his own eyes. the thought of getting drunk or even slightly buzz never really ever appealed to him. that’s just how saint was. parties weren’t somewhere you could find him. well, not until now, anyways.

there were only a few places that saint visited around the facilities. the gardens were nice when he wanted peace and quiet. he usually ate at the food court during dead times where no one else was around. sometimes saint took classes and he recently had a piano installed with his own money from allowance, but that was it. but even so, that didn’t seem enough for chase. 

the other had been bothering him for sometime now, telling saint that he needed to interact with things that would actually talk back to him. his piano wasn’t going to fulfill his social quota for the day. it didn’t matter how many times he stroked its keys or told it about his problems (chase’s words, he definitely did not do that). and so, begrudginly, saint had agreed to whatever the other had planned. however, he did not know that that included loud music and alcohol. saint would have kindly passed had he had that information.