#erasurae

stops   halfway   through   the   motion   of   half-heartedly   wiping   the   sturdy   wood   of   the   bar.   beer   drenched   rag   does   nothing   more   than   provide   an   opportunity   to   ignore   him   anyway        ⎯⎯⎯        leaves   sticky   residue   in   the   shape   of   absolute   fucking   nonsense   but   doubts   that   he   can   read   the   scribbled   writing   on   the   wall.   ❝   pretty   sure   we   were   never   supposed   to   meet,   ❞   rolls   her   eyes,   but   pours   a   shot   of   cheap   whiskey   to   slide   across   the   bar   into   his   direction   regardless.   ❝   but   tell   me,   psychic wonder boy.   how   and   where   were   we   supposed   to   meet   ?   just   know   that   if   you   make   up   some   bullshit   romantic   comedy   shit   i   will   drag   you   out   of   here   by   the   scruff   of   your   sorry   neck.   ❞

beau looks even prettier in the daylight, but maybe that's just because trace so rarely gets to see it. they're tucked in the back of a cafe, sun shining through a dusty window and landing on them in stripes. he laughs when beau has to squint through the sunlight, moves to block the beam. it gives him an excuse to turn his back towards any passerby and steal them both a little more privacy. trace kisses beau and scrunches his nose at the grassy taste on his lips. "careful. people will start saying you're a vampire."

he spins with a speed he reserves mostly for the chase, eyes wide, hair messy from tugging his hood down and his mask off in one go. "are you stupid?" he hisses, pointing the end of his knife at riv's (blissfully off) camera. "you want to film me murdering somebody? do you have any idea how dangerous that is? fuck, i just got my factor sponsorship! they'd yank that so fast!" it's a good thing riv has joss around to keep them on track.

♡   ⎯⎯⎯⎯     @erasurae   (   the   universe   said   sydney   and   james   ) 

❝   it   would   make   sense   for   it   to   be   a   game   based   on   strength.   look   at   the   room,   this   is   how   they   could   take   the   most   of   us   out.   ❞   drags   a   hand   through   her   own   hair,   ignores   the   patches   of   dried   blood   fingers   get   caught   up   in.   speaks   loud   enough   for   the   couple she knows to be awake   two   bunks   down   to   hear,   but   not   loud   enough   to   alert   more waiting sheep.   riv   can   capture   the   surprise   tomorrow   in   sparkless   eyes   after   rumour   has   spread   like   wildfire.   ❝   whatever   we   do,   we   should   make   sure   we   stick   together,   we   have   a   better   shot   at   surviving   that   way.   ❞

which is to say, he's not saying callum doesn't understand what he's saying, but that it doesn't take a ton of experience with a stoned callum to know when he's stoned. it catches him off guard, sure, but he usually takes it the same way a waitress laughs when you say you too to her enjoy your meal. he still doesn't know what callum's deal is, if he's actually straight or in denial or just hasn't figured it out yet, but he doesn't think any of that translates to i love you. which is to say, it's probably something he shouldn't linger on. which is to say, it definitely won't come up again unless he asks, and he has no reason to ask. callum hangs up before he has to figure out what to say back (good night, text me tomorrow, drink some water).

" jamie ! " she squeals, sending her voice up high and bright. she's not all that ticklish, but she giggles anyways, from the physical touch and the attention and because she knows that he likes having her wrapped around his everything. she reaches up behind her to cross her arms behind his head, perfectly posed for him to grab her waist, and tilts her head back to slot into the crook of his neck. "stop it! you're distracting me!" she's playing pool, one of the boys, and she lightly kicks his calf. "come on, you're going to make me lose!" she has no intention of winning anyways, but that's her choice, not his.

he's looking away from the wound as much as possible, not keen to see her blood dyeing the hastily torn stips his hoodie red, but that leaves him looking at her, sallow and quiet and looking just off behind him. it's just her arm, he thinks, which is one of the better cases here, and the right one no less, further from the heart. she's got time. he tells her that, chest tight, his voice shakier than hers, you need to breathe, and he wraps another strip and another until he can't see the blood anymore. "not too deep," he says, like that's the issue, and he tugs her arm up, is that a bad idea? will that just make the infection move faster?, back down, then he just pulls her closer to him, presses her hand to his mouth in some semblance of comfort. "yeah?"