#jasper001

There was finally a moment CJ had to himself, not being coerced into doing shots or coaxed into a game of bowling. It had been mad fun, don't get it twisted, but it occured to him that all of this drinking and bowling and dancing really worked up an apetite.

And he had paid for a shitload of pizza.

So, taking the break, he made his way over to where the pizzas were lined out on a long table, grabbing a slice withe most toppings, nodding at the person stood there. They seemed familiar, and CJ vaguely recalled Phoebe greeting them with ease earlier, so as far as the racing track owner was concerned, they were a friend!

"Yo dude! Jacob right?" Okay, so he wasn't best with names, but they for sure had a J name. "Thanks for stopping by! You having a good time?"

Isaac spent the entire night at Merlin Rouge. He's been learning to look forward to these nights at the end of the week. Working all day long side by side with his fellow hit-wixen got him feeling like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He hated every minute of it. Now he looks for absolution - that he’ll never find - at the bottom of the bottle. 

He spent tons of coins buying drinks. He didn’t even look at any of the strippers; his heart was still lovelorn for a certain muggle woman. Instead, he spent the night drinking shots and beer, taking breaks once in a while to dance the alcohol away. By the time the patrons were asked to leave, Isaac was drunk but he still wasn’t ready to go home. Instead, he sat at the pavement outside and hung his head between his knees. He was starting to feel the sunrise but he didn’t care. He’ll wait for the sky to turn bright blue and only then he’ll decide to get up. Perhaps he’ll buy himself a cup of coffee. 

He kept his eyes closed but he couldn’t fall asleep. The sounds of Merlin Rouge’s workers stepping outside to go home didn’t help either. More than a couple passed him by until he heard someone walk towards him. Their feet stopped right beside him. Isaac could feel them standing over him. “I know,” he grunted before the person could say anything. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

Wizards weren’t exempt from the hassles of moving. In fact, for two pureblood wizards, Bilius and Jasper wouldn’t know how much easier moving would be if they were muggles. They could just hire a truck, and that’s that. Surprisingly, it was a lot more complicated for wizards. The Ministry frowns down upon flying pieces of furniture, no matter how secured to the broomsticks they could be. Nor were there big enough fireplaces that could fit beds or bookshelves in every house. 

That precisely was why Bilius enlisted his friend and co-worker, Jasper, to help. By the end of the day, somehow, they managed to transport the biggest pieces of furniture into Bilius’ new flat. They were able to place them down vaguely where Bilius wanted them to be. With the couch being the last one they transported, Bilius allowed himself to crash on to it. 

“I’m going to admit. That took longer than I expected.” He looked towards his friend, hoping that he’d join him on the couch. “You look like you could use a cold drink.” With a flick of his wand, a pitcher of cold juice and two clean glasses floated by.

It’s been a hectic week for Walden and it was just about to get worse. Walden could handle weeks being out on the field. But weeks of planning when most likely they’ll have to improvise on the fly once shit hits the fan? No thanks. He’d rather slit his own throat with his ax.

His only reprieve was knowing that at the end of the week he’ll visit one of his favorite places in all of wizarding London, Merlin Rouge. And as per ritual, Walden liked to tease himself by visiting his favorite stripper in his day job. At the Leaky Cauldron. 

As soon as he entered the pub, he already honed in where Jasper was. Instead, he went straight for the stool at the end of the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. Once he was finally within earshot, Walden chimed his order without even looking at the boy. “One Beef, Lamb, and Guinness Stew.” 

Even the study rooms in the basement are empty this early in the morning. Grayson secures a table first thing, ostensibly so he doesn’t have to fight for space later when the rest of the Foxes wake up. It’s just a bonus that it gets him out of his room right away, so he doesn’t have to worry about Arlo’s glares, or the fact that Jen could technically show up at any moment, because Grayson’s living with their best friend. Grayson throws his books on the table and sits down, scoots his chair in.

The table squeaks and shifts underneath him, unstable on its legs. The Foxes co-opt this space for parties, so Grayson can imagine any number of reasons for that instability. He tells himself he’s going to ignore it, because despite everything, he needs to pass his damn finals. Even if he’s desperately holding out hope that his trip to Dubois will be different this time, that he’ll go home and everything will make sense again, that he won’t need Palmetto or school or Exy or any of it—he can’t justify failing all his tests.

It only lasts about fifteen minutes before Grayson gives up, and sneaks back to his room for the battered toolkit he brought from home. He tells himself it’s because he needs silence to study, because a shaking desk is a distraction. Even Grayson knows that’s as much a lie as his reasoning for staying down here rather than in his dorm. He wants to fix it because he’s always felt better when he’s working with his hands, when there’s a tangible difference after he’s through. It’s proof of his usefulness, and nothing in the dry textbooks or cramped pages of notes can provide that for him.

Grayson’s underneath the table with a fistful of screws when he hears footsteps in the basement. He freezes, staring up at the textured wood grain above him. It’s probably not Jen. If he stays under the table, it’s definitely not Jen.

Grayson takes a deep breath, and moves to sit up. For a split second, he’s almost disappointed—he doesn’t want to talk to Jen, has no right to want to talk to them, and even still, he’d half-expected to find them there. That all gives way though, because even if they aren’t there, Jasper is. Grayson’s escaped Arlo, only to find himself in the basement with another of Jen’s closest friends. They’re everywhere, and of course they are, because who doesn’t love Jen? “One of the legs is fucked up,” Grayson says, pointlessly explaining why he’s on the ground, instead of acknowledging anything else going on in his life right now. “If you need to study, the other tables are probably fine.”

@jasperxkeane

Her arm rest on the bar, head in her hand when the words spilled out. Emma hadn’t realized she said them out loud until the bartender spoke, looking at him in surprise, “You don’t know what Mamma Mia is? Have you lived under a rock your whole life?”