#ethjenkins

Logan: i got an offer from ohio state

She was running low, the thought reverberates inside her head, had been most of the night, every time she slipped out of the room to freshen up, hiding away in one of the bathrooms to pop the cap off her bottle and swallow down another helper – she was running low.

Usually it wasn’t that big of a predicament, nothing a trip to her father’s study couldn’t fix at any rate, but with Merrick watching her more closely lately and her mother hanging around the house instead of out more often than not, the risk for once didn’t quite seem to outweigh the reward.

Only Holly had been hitting the bottle a little too much lately and she only had enough for two maybe three days tops left so it was either time to man up or explore alternative options.

She’d been hearing whispers all night “Ethan can hook you up with whatever you need” nothing she put too much stock in to begin with, she’d known Ethan too long to honestly believe he’d suddenly become some kind of Scarface style drug pusher, but as the night wore on and she’d heard some variation of the same thread several times over she wondered...would it really hurt to ask?

He’s awake and relaxed in a corner by himself when she approaches him, weaving her way quietly around sleeping bodies strewn around the gymnasium floor, and they’re too far away from the handful of people still not passed out for their conversation to be heard so she’s not in the least bit worried  about burning ears and Ethan has never been the gossiping kind so she knows even if the rumours swirling around about him turn out to be completely wrong he’ll keep whatever she says to himself “Of all the gym joints in all the world...you’re a hard man to pin down Jenkins.”

Logan: merrick says if either of us doesn't ask her to homecoming soon, she's going to ditch us both for another boyfriend

i don’t understand… how you can be so… boring. and at a time like this. the end is here and you’re bringing it in faster.

The end is here...you sound like a vaguely ominous bible passage or one of those posters you see in the nurses office that warn you off teen pregnancy.

Logan: i thought i was seeing things at the memorial, but i literally just saw your mom picking up food at rosie's. has she been back since saturday?

There are few things worse than a restless teenage boy. Logan understands that better than most, knows intimately how it feels to live with a perpetual itch under his skin that can never be scratched. So when Ethan expresses a desire to do something, to do anything, Logan is more than ready to get his hands dirty. After all, one of the few things worse than a restless teenage boy is two of them.

“Get in loser,” he yells out the half-lowered driver’s side window, leaning forward obnoxiously on his car horn long enough that someone stomps out onto their front porch to swear at him. He only laughs though, the expression edging on feral as he watches Ethan approach the truck. “We’re going to fuck shit up,” he says, lips splitting to form a grin with too much teeth to mean anything other than trouble.

Starting fights is one thing, but starting fights with a rival team is another. They’ve already gotten into hot water for it before, but the threats of being kicked off the team are only half-real and taken even less seriously; they’re much too valuable as players to be given the boot so easily, and arrogance has them feeling invincible enough to push the already generous boundaries that have been set for them. 

WHO: Logan and Ethan WHEN: 7 November ( late night ) WHAT: Angry boys commit crimes instead of talking about their feelings.

They find a bar two towns over that is lively in a way Roco’s isn’t. It’s only Thursday night but the space is packed, and the pair of them blend into the college-aged crowd with seamless ease. The slight buzz from the 40 they’d downed at the parking lot before they’d walked over is kept going by a row of tequila shots, courtesy of the credit card he’d nicked from his mother. 

It’s reminiscent of the start of their friendship, the memory of the pair of them grinning at each other over their ice cream cones, paid for with money that he’d taken from his mother’s purse, blurring into the moment in the present as he knocks his shot glass against Ethan’s.

This time, the grin they share is wry, weighed down by all the years spent growing up in a town like Riverside. There are no words exchanged, but they’ve never really been the talking sort, anyway, driven by action instead—and tonight, they’re out for blood. Like sharks in the water, both their gazes circle the bar for prey. 

Maybe it would be better if they’d just talked—both Merrick and Holly have tried to get him to do it enough, and sure Ethan’s been on the receiving end of the same brand of concern—but it’s easier to do this, to let the rage within them simmer until it threatens to boil over, and then finding catharsis in a fist to the face. Whose fist, and whose face—those are secondary details.