#highflyflows

the pack, becky & the dogs — mood boards.

“You can’t—“ Taichi’s hold on Umino is tight, secure but it threatens to slip when he speaks as such. It had been drinks, something celebratory between friends. Easy. But now the younger man is drunk in his arms as he tries to get him into his own place. He would have taken the other back to Shota’s apartment but it was too long aways and its that crisp cold weather outside that could be a danger for either of them.

“You can’t say things like that.” Taichi finally manages as he shoves the other onto his couch. Dark exterior even when he flips on a light. Whites and blacks. It’s not hard to remember the last time Umino was in here but Taichi had forced himself to forget about it. Now it’s being brought up in a different manner. What selfish thing would it be to have some level of wanting to know more. Of wanting to be Umino’s undoing and putting together.

A throbbing (hangover) headache. A cold breakfast. A press conference blow-up, because that's the only kind he's able to have- especially alone. So how does he cope? Maybe remembering a Mox move from years past, a lifetime ago with a certain tactical vest, he's burning a bloody straightjacket in a makeshift barrel fire in the parking lot. His head cocks to the side at the sound of steps, big sunglasses nearly blocking the way his brows arch, but doing nothing to hide the sneering curl of his upper lip.

If things weren't as they are, Gabe might be chomping for that International Champ belt. If things weren't as they are, maybe he'd be sleeping easier, Drilla close at hand. If things weren't as they are, maybe it wouldn't be the entire fucking roster taking a fat paycheck to back someone that Gabe, quite frankly, would like to bite into the face of if given half the chance. Hell- maybe that's what all of the contenders for the throne so far have been missing. But things are as they are. Drilla is not here. Half-Death Rider, half-Dog, all pissed, and staring down the guy he once lambasted for taking the same deal he did to cross another ocean and see most of his pack follow him.

"Does  anything  ever  really  go  to  plan  with  us?"  Oiwa  says  with  a  playful  but  embarrassed  huff.  Originally,  their  plan  was  for  Zack  to  simply  drag  Oiwa  to  some  new  vegan  noodle  place  that  opened  and  enjoy  their  food  before  crashing  at  Zack's  place  since  they  were  around  the  parts  and  on  a  one  day  break  before  getting  their  asses  back  on  the  road.  And  that  is  honestly  what  happened.  But  then  one  beer  on  Zack's  surprisingly  cozy  couch  turned  to  two,  and  at  some  point  Oiwa  was  just  biting  the  rim  out  of  some  nervous  habit.  Zack  is  warm,  like  heater  warm,  and  having  him  maybe  at  arms  reach  with  some  lounge  clothes  on  was  all  parts  wrong,  all  parts  right  and  putting  loud  alarms  to  start  ringing  in  Oiwa's  head.