#para14

"Humor me and wear this while we're inside, okay?" Benji whispered, jutting a kippah, much like his own, out to Topher as he pushed open the doors and walked the two inside. He walked slowly up the aisle to the front of the house of worship and knelt down, his hands in his lap. "...Franco asked me to marry him," he whispered, his voice tired from all the worry. "...I was so worried he'd run off and start using again that I said yes. And now I can't get out of it because then he'll really start using again." 

 He swallowed hard, finally turning to look at his best friend, tears forming in his eyes. "...I don't want to marry Franc. I can't marry Franc. ...Not while I still lov--" he stopped short and dropped his head to his chest, starting to cry.

It took a few moments, but Topher eventually remembered the kippah's proper placement as he followed Benji's lead. But the moment he caught up with his best friend, none of the possibilities that dashed through his mind could have prepared him for the truth. He aimed to carefully rest a hand on Benji's shoulder as his attention switched to considering potential solutions. "I would say that it's a sticky situation, but that would be an understatement," he remarked under his breath. 

"But listen to me when I say that this isn't impossible, okay? You and I, when we put our minds together, we're capable of fantastic things," the former Serpent stated. "We could get somebody to object. It would be a last minute rescue type of deal, but it could work," he added when something else dawned on him. "Wait a minute, you're in love with someone else?"

"Jewish weddings don't work like that. That's a Christian thing..." he whispered, wiping his eyes; he refused to look up. He couldn't bare the image of Topher's face right now, but, more importantly, he couldn't bare the idea of looking around the house of worship knowing that he'd be getting married to Franc here soon. Officially giving his life away to one person while he still deeply loved another... it felt like blasphemy. He couldn't do this to himself. His faith and his connection with YHWH felt like the only thing he hadn't sacrificed somehow at this point. He needed to keep it whole. 

"I am..." Benji whispered, still staring at his hands. He couldn't lie anymore--not here. "I love Franco. I really, really do. But... I love this other person too. And I've loved them for so long. And... I don't know if you can love two people at once. Maybe there's something wrong with me, I don't know. But... until I clear my conscience, I can't marry Franc." He swallowed. "If I could get this other guy out my head, I could at least not feel as guilty about marrying Franc, but... I don't think he's leaving my mind anytime soon."

Topher gave a light hum as he filed away the fact about objections then focused on Benji once again. "Personally, I don't think it's too wild or wrong at all to be polyamorous. Also known as loving two or more people at once. But disclaimer once again, those are just my opinions," he rattled off as his free hand fiddled with the makeshift necklace that his apartment key was part of. 

Another few moments of quiet consideration passed as he glanced around the synagogue, as if hoping all the potential solutions to this obnoxiously difficult situation would reveal themselves here. "Then I would be upfront with both parties about it. Both whoever you're in love with and Franco. The former first then the latter," Topher evenly answered. Then his mind started to drift and focus on his wandering thoughts instead, secret hopes among them. It took a split second for him to snap back to reality. "I'll be right by your side if you want. But just out of curiosity and so there are no surprises, who are you in love with? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"...You," Benji replied, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"The day we met at ePlay. I had never had someone almost beat me in DDR before. By the time we became friends, I had already fallen in love with you." He sniffled, feeling a few tears fall and land on the floor below them. "Seven years. I've been trying to get you out of my mind for seven years, and I just couldn't do it. I... I can't do it. And I'm sorry."

That very statement sent shockwaves directly to Topher's heart. It was a sensation that he never grew used to. How could anybody get used to it? But he remained next to Benji because this was where he needed to be and honestly, he wouldn't dream of leaving anyone's side in a similar situation. Regardless of whatever bombshell they'd just dropped. 

 "You have nothing to apologize for," the former Serpent managed in a quiet tone. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. Because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind recently and all I could bring myself to do was deny it," he added then closed his eyes for a beat or two. "It's honestly hilarious how I managed to get away with asking you for advice. Maybe I should see if there are any openings in the espionage job sector."

Benji looked up, wiping away the tears in his eyes as he did. "You... you mean the guy you were talking about the other day? You... you were talking about romantic feelings? ...And you were talking about me?" He sniffled, turning so he could face his friend better. "Really?"

It took all of Topher's inner strength to not lie and deny, to instead nod as his gaze flicked to the floor. Anything and everything he wanted to say immediately died in his throat as he worried his bottom lip. He couldn't believe that he'd just admitted this out loud despite all of the built up worries related to what could go wrong. The 18 year old drew in a shaky breath as he nodded once again in confirmation even though every fiber of his body practically screeched at him to do the opposite.

Benji smiled shakily and held out his hand for Topher to take; even though he had dreamed for years for this one day, he couldn't cheat on Franco by giving Topher a kiss--especially not in a place of worship. "...All this time hiding from each other and we've been thinking similar things." He gave an exhausted laugh, his body shaking again. "...What do we do now?"

A few chuckles escaped before Topher had the chance to stop himself then carefully took Benji's offered hand. "The universe works in mysterious ways sometimes," he stated as he finally glanced up at the other once again. "I may have an idea or two about how to handle this. Both are kind of a doozy if I'm being honest though, so you better prepare yourself mentally."

Benji stared at Topher, his eyes a great tell of how emotionally exhausted he was. "...After the week I've had, I don't think there's anything that's too much of a 'doozy' for me, Toph," he admitted. "If it's something that'll allow me to keep both of you happy, healthy, and sober, I'm willing to hear it."

"Idea one is that we approach Franco and basically tell him how you feel. Just go in there and tell him the truth," Topher replied. He worried his bottom lip just a hint more as he considered how best to phrase idea two. "Then the second one would require us telling him anyway, but if he turns it down or whatever, we offer to continue assisting him on the road to recovery yet also put in the request to postpone the wedding indefinitely slash cancel it while the three of us figure out what course of action to take next."

Benji let go of Topher's hand and looked back down, trying to process what his best friend had suggested. "...I can't tell him the truth, Toph," he whispered, wiping away the last of his tears. "If I tell him the truth and he runs off and gets high, I'd never forgive myself. ...Or, HaShem, what if he did something even more stupid like try to hurt himself? I wouldn't be able to take it." 

He swallowed hard, looking back up. "You should've seen the way he looked at me. The way he looked at the ring. He was in the middle of a rampage at the time--he had literally thrown over my dresser. But then he saw the ring and just... stopped. Like it was the only thing keeping him even the smallest bit sane... I can't tell him the truth, Toph. It'd break him, and I can't live with that."

Topher's now free hand went back to messing with the key as he considered everything that Benji had just told him. "I'd feel the same way if I were in your shoes. But let me take care of the most difficult parts, okay? Name them and all of those problems will be swept away faster than you can blink," he responded. 

"People will lock on to whoever or whatever they can in times of severe stress, but that could just be my experience. I've certainly locked onto you and my family in the past then I haven't been able to put my guitar or a controller down recently because of the mental olympics that is denial. Maybe we need to help Franco find something more positive to lock onto."

Benji bit his lip, taking a moment to think. "I... I can't tell him right now. Not until I know this isn't gonna end in him relapsing. Promise me that you won't tell him or anyone else that I don't want this. You're the only person who knows, and if it gets back to Franc, I'm never gonna forgive you." He took a shaky breath. 

"But... maybe we can work on the second part of the plan for now. Let's find him something else to lock on to. Something that doesn't involve me. And... then we can thin about what else to do after that." He sniffled, trying to keep new tears from falling; he just couldn't believe he has gotten himself into another mess like this. "Deal?"

"My lips are eternally zipped unless you give me permission to say something," Topher answered as he placed his hand over his heart. "Swear on my dad's grave." He then nodded at the prospect of working on the plan's second part and almost immediately got a jump start on it when he remembered who he was with. 

"C'mere and let me give you a hug. I think we could both use it after all this emotional drama," the 18 year old remarked then lightly tapped Benji's shoulder. "Unless you say the word, then I'm not leaving your side anytime soon, alright? You've been there for me countless times. Only fair and right that I return the favor."

Benji nodded and stood up, hugging Topher with all his might. "I'm sorry you're an accessory in all this... I love you..." he whispered, not caring if Topher knew anymore.

Tonight is the start of the 2020 NFL Draft, which also marks the first official event of the Jets Flight Crew’s season: the annual Jets Draft Party at MetLife Stadium for season-ticket holders.

The draft won’t start for another hour, but there’s already a lot of excitement in the building. Fans have been making their way in, and barely a minute goes by without a “J-E-T-S! Jets! Jets! Jets!” echoing through the corridor leading to the Coaches Club—the VIP club with direct access to the field.

Quinn is currently smiling and posing for the cameras along with her fellow Flight Crew sisters on the green carpet. It won’t be long until they make their way onto the field to perform for the guests in attendance in a pre-draft celebration.

But as much as Quinn is looking forward to getting back to performing, it feels bittersweet. Besides Kaitlyn, Marissa and Sara are Quinn’s closest friends from the squad, but they both retired at the end of last season. Sure, she gets along well with the other girls who are returning, and she is looking forward to getting to know the rookies, but a part of Quinn wishes Marissa and Sara (and even Kaitlyn) were here.

Tonight, the Flight Crew are wearing short, white baby-doll dresses, accented with a green belt and collar, that do a fantastic job of showing off their legs. White sneakers and green and silver pom-poms round out the look.

Even though things have been a bit delicate between Quinn and Rachel since her anxiety attack a week and a half ago, Quinn knows how much Rachel appreciates her various uniforms, so she’d been sure to take a selfie to send to her girlfriend before heading out of the locker room. Quinn wishes she had enough time to wait for Rachel’s response, but work beckoned. Regardless, she hopes it will get things back to relative normalcy between them (although, she can’t help but wonder what Rachel’s reaction was).

Of course, the “I love yous” have been amazing—Quinn can still hardly believe Rachel Berry loves her—but the flirting has been almost non-existent. She knows Rachel is waiting for the cue from Quinn on that front, and even though she still feels incredibly torn about that tattoo and everything her mind connects it to, she’s trying to work with her doctor to reconcile things.

Guns and Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle” blasts through the stadium’s PA system, and it sends a jolt of energy through Quinn. There’s nothing like performing on this field in front of these fans.

Her arms thrust up toward the sky, shaking green and silver pom-poms, before she sends her hips back and rocks them forward, exploding in motion.

It’s a routine that Quinn knows well—it might as well be part of the Flight Crew’s repertoire at this point—but it always feels fresh and exciting every time she performs it. And after all this time away from the squad, it’s especially invigorating to be under the bright lights of MetLife Stadium once more.

She struts along the 50-yard line, her wrists never pausing in their shaking of pom-poms, as the crowd cheers. And for a brief moment, it hits her that she’s standing exactly where Rachel once did—singing the National Anthem—and she manages to take a moment to thank God for letting her survive long enough to not only witness it but reconnect with Rachel.

After their performance on the field, the Flight Crew makes their way into the Coaches Club, where they spend the next half hour posing for pictures with fans. Quinn makes sure to spend extra time talking to the children who approach her, especially the girls.

When the draft starts, the Flight Crew splits up into groups of three, scattering about the club to take up small tables reserved for them and to chat with any fans who are still looking for pictures.

But for the most part, the fans are hardly paying attention to them—they’re much too focused on the actual proceedings in Chicago, where the commissioner is announcing each team’s pick (and receiving a healthy amount of boos).

It isn’t until almost 9:30 that the Jets make their first pick, which is fairly late in the first round, but not surprising considering the team’s strong finish last season. They take a wide receiver from Michigan who sends the crowd into a frenzy. Frankly, Quinn doesn’t care to know anything about players until they’re actually on the team, so she has no idea who this guy is.

But it doesn’t really matter right now. The fans are happy, and Quinn is finally free to take a bit of a break.

She excuses herself to get some water, making her way to the end of the bar and flagging down the bartender. As she waits for him to return with her bottle of water, a female voice sounds behind her. “If Sue Sylvester could see you now.”

Quinn tenses at the unexpected familiarity of that voice, but there’s no mistaking who it belongs to. Her initial surprise quickly fades, replaced by a growing unease as Quinn turns to face Santana Lopez for the first time in seven years. And despite the Jets hat that Santana is wearing, Quinn seriously doubts she’s actually a fan—let alone a Jets season-ticket holder.

“Santana,” she says, trying to stay calm and taking some comfort in the fact that they’re in a very public setting. Not that that’s stopped Santana from going after her in the past. Her presence alone has Quinn feeling a lot like she’s been slammed into a row of lockers.

“Tubbers,” Santana replies, her expression hard and unyielding. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but I think we both know that’s not true. Honestly, you’re lucky we’re not alone right now.”

“Why, would you slap me again?” Quinn bites back, her hackles rising.

Santana sneers. “I should. Believe me, I want to, and you deserve it after bailing on us after Finn died—bailing on Rachel when she needed you most,” she says, and for a moment, it looks like there might be some genuine hurt along with anger swirling in brown eyes. “Do you have any idea how devastated she was? Did you even care?”

Guilt floods Quinn once more as she bristles. “Of course I did. But I couldn’t…” She trails off, not able or willing to explain. Besides, she knows Rachel has told Santana (and Brittany and Kurt and Blaine) about her bipolar disorder and the episode she had after Finn’s death.

“Bullshit. You should have called—something, anything to let me-,” she cuts herself off before emphasizing, “us know  where the hell you were.” Brown eyes narrow and bore into her. “You weren’t the only one who was devastated by Finn’s death. We were all grieving, Quinn. And you obviously got over your ‘episode’ or whatever, so you should have picked up a fucking phone and reached out then.”

Quinn lets out a sharp breath. She had her reasons for doing what she did, and she knows it was for the best, but that doesn’t stop the guilt. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Santana shakes her head, her gaze never softening. “No, it’s not okay. And unlike Rachel, I’m not going to forgive you. I really don’t give a damn about having any kind of relationship with you again.”

“Why are you even here?” she asks warily, just wanting to get this over with.

“Because I don’t trust you, and Rachel’s too naïve for her own good. You’ve always been a mess, Quinn, and it’s just a matter of time before your life implodes again. I don’t want to see Rachel getting dragged down because of it. She was upset enough after your disaster of a birthday dinner.”

Quinn’s breath catches in her throat as her stomach twists unpleasantly. Of course it makes sense that Rachel would talk to her friends about Quinn, but that logic is overwhelmed by a wave of unease at Santana knowing anything about what happened that night.

Her fists clench at her sides, and Quinn responds the only way she knows how with Santana—fight fire with fire. “And this is exactly why I stayed away for all these years—I knew you would never understand or care about was happening with me.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. I understand plenty, and if you really care about Rachel—if you love her as much as you claim to—then you’ll do the right thing and keep your trainwreck of a life away from hers.”

Blood rushes in Quinn’s ears, and her jaw tightens. Every word Santana says feels like a punch in the gut, because it’s nothing Quinn hasn’t thought before. But right now, it only serves to fuel her anger and anxiety.

“Screw you, Santana,” she grits out, nostrils flaring.

“Been there, done that,” Santana shoots back. “And I wouldn’t touch your crazy again with a ten-foot pole. I just wish Rachel was smart enough to do the same.”

Her words have the impact of a physical blow, and Quinn is helpless to do anything about it. She feels cornered, and every part of her wants to push Santana away in every possible way—with her words, her fists—but the lithium running through her veins manages to keep her from completely losing it and wailing on Santana.

Instead, her right fist connects solidly with the side of the bar. It hurts, but Quinn barely registers the pain, her body thrumming with anger and adrenaline.

Santana’s eyes narrow as she squares her shoulders, and Quinn is vaguely aware of several pairs of eyes on them. She catches the swoosh of a white dress in her periphery then, but she’s unable to take her eyes off Santana, even as she feels the presence of one of her Flight Crew sisters standing at her side.

“Is there a problem?” Gina asks. Quinn barely hears her—too much emotion has swelled, and the pain radiating from her right hand is an achingly familiar counterbalance.

Santana purses her lips before folding her arms across her chest, her own gaze still fixed on Quinn. “Yeah, there is. And the problem is Quinn Fabray and the fact that she’s messing with my friend’s life.”

Quinn’s whole body tenses and it isn’t until Gina’s hand slams into her chest that she realizes that she’s moving forward.

“You need to leave,” Gina tells Santana, shifting to block Quinn’s entire body with her own, pressing her back against Quinn’s front as she wraps both arms around Quinn’s waist. “Now. Or else we’ll get security to escort you out.”

Santana holds her hands up in mock defense. “Fine,” she acquiesces but not before throwing one more jab Quinn’s way. “But if—when—you hurt Rachel, don’t expect me to be this civil.” She takes the cap off her head then and tosses it on the ground. “Go Bengals!” she exclaims before quickly turning on her heels and heading out of the club, earning several jeers and boos from the Jets fans gathered. Santana throws up a pair of middle fingers as she goes, and it doesn’t take long until security actually does come to her side—whether for her own protection or to get her out of there faster or both, Quinn doesn’t know.

She can only stare after Santana as her own body shakes with anger, her stomach churning unpleasantly as her heart is gripped by familiar doubts and fears—that she’ll only drag Rachel down—that despite wanting to be the best partner for Rachel, she’ll never be good enough.

“Are you okay, Quinn?” Gina asks, turning to face her and gently gripping Quinn’s upper arms.

Quinn swallows thickly as she tries to get her breathing under control to no avail. She shakes her head. “No. I…” her voice quivers before she swallows again. “I can’t. I have to go.”

“Okay,” Gina says softly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” she repeats.

She can’t be around anyone right now.

Gina lowers her hands, and Quinn’s feet move. She’s not even consciously aware of where they’re taking her. She just needs to get out of here—away from all these people—away from everything.

She needs to get away from herself, but that’s impossible, isn’t it?

Quinn clenches her jaw once more as hopeless anger rises up in her. Her left fist solidly connects with the closest surface—the metal of a locker. Pain shoots through her hand, and Quinn presses her lips together before sliding down to the floor.

She buries her head in her hands, gripping her hair tightly and sending a fresh wave of pain through her knuckles, but she doesn’t care. She deserves it.

She hates this. She hates that she’s like this—that there’s nothing she can do about it. She hates that Santana is right about everything.

Bells chime over Quinn’s head then, and her stomach churns as her fists clench tighter. She knows that sound. It’s her phone. It’s the tone she assigned for Rachel’s text messages.

She wants nothing more than to reach into her locker and grab her phone—to try and find some sort of comfort in Rachel’s words—but she can’t do it. She doesn’t deserve Rachel’s love.

Evan: had just come from finally going to the grocery store and stocking up on food and essentials for his apartment instead of just having take-out all the time. It ranged from two tubs of ice cream; napoleon and butter pecan to lots of cereal. After that he called his mom and told her he was off to San Francisco for a weekend in a couple of weeks and took note that he has to text Andrea the details of the trip and then he took a nap. Now he was sprawled on the living room floor watching Netflix on his phone doing absolutely nothing. He should probably go and at least be social, maybe find Andrea and go take a train ride and get a smoothie again. Maybe.

Andrea knew that she probably should've texted or called Evan before making her way over to his apartment, but honestly she just didn't feel like talking; she was exhausted, and after crying and eating in her room for a couple of hours she knew that she had to make herself get up and do something that wasn't sulk. So, she'd gone to practice in the music hall but even that didn't make her feel better, and eventually she got up and decided that maybe she should go to Evan's. She knocked on his door, leaning against the doorstop and waiting to see if he'd answer.

Evan: propped himself up on his shoulders looking in the direction of the door when he heard a knock. Blinking, he wondered who it could possibly be because he didn't call anyone over and he doesn't think he's played music too loud for the neighbors to complain. So pushing himself off the wooden floor he walked across the room to go open it, pocketing his phone and running a hand through his hair. "Hello -- oh, hey, wha-" it was Andrea (speak of the devil) and it didn't take long for him to notice that something was up by just taking one mere look at her. He opened his door wider so she could come in, his eyebrows furrowing in question; "Are you alright?"

Andrea tried to force a smile on her face as Evan opened the door, but it probably looked more like a grimace because it wasn't sincere at all. Not that she wasn't happy to see Evan - she was always happy to see him, which is why she'd come over - but she just wasn't happy... in general, at that moment. She stepped in when he opened the door wider for her, sighing heavily. She simply shook her head, not feeling like talking about the situation with Spike (not yet, at least). "What are you up to? I hope I'm not bothering you..." she looked down at her feet, voice quiet as she shifted on her feet.

Evan: tilted his head to the side, trying to make something out of why she looked...tired. He thinks that's an appropriate choice of word; her eyes looked just a tad a puffy and the way she seemed to be carrying herself, well, it kinda made him frown a little. But not at her, at whatever it was that seemed to have her like this. "Um' nothing, was just watching the trailer for Sense Eight," he shrugged, it looked pretty good, "other than that, nothing besides calling my mum ." He wrinkled his nose a bit but not in a distasteful manner, "What about you?"

Andrea stepped further into the apartment, sitting down on the armrest of the couch and fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie as she listened to him reply to her. She just hummed in affirmation, so he'd knew she was listening even though she wasn't really looking at him. "Huh? Oh..." she shrugged her shoulders. "Same ol' same ol' I guess." and by that she meant arguing with Spike as usual, and being exhausted by it. At least she wasn't particularly sad about it.

Evan: bit his lip because what does '​same ol' same ol'​' even mean? He didn't think he should push it though, they never really push each other to talk about what they're feeling unless they decide to spill. It was nice, knowing someone will stop asking you questions after a first attempt but it was kind of frustrating when someone didn't tell you what was bothering them especially because Evan prefers not see Andrea act like...this. "Right, okay." he nodded, it wasn't okay but he couldn't do much about it, "Do you want some tea? Finally stocked up."

Andrea finally glanced up at him then, nodding her head. "Sure. That sounds nice. Whatever you have is fine." she gave him a thin smile, letting herself slide back until she was actually on the seat of the couch, back on seat and legs over the armrest. She shut her eyes, clasping her hands together and placing them over her stomach. She felt like she needed to get everything out, but she didn't know how to start, or where to start, or if she even had it in her.

Evan: nodded and made his way towards the kitchen. The grocery bags were still on the counter, he hadn't actually bothered to put things away except for the milk and ice cream and maybe he should do that while he heats up the water. A few minutes later he walked back into the living room holding two mugs, "I honestly don't know how you like your tea so just tell me if you want some sugar or something." He set them down on the coffee table and plopped down on the floor next to where Andrea was sitting couch, "So, what's up?"

Andrea shut her eyes when Evan went to the kitchen, and she was half-asleep by the time he came back. But she forced her eyes open and turned to look at where Evan set the mugs down. "I'll get it, thank you though." she sat up and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, grabbing one of the mugs and going to the kitchen to put in a bunch of sugar. Then she returned to the living room, stirring and plopping herself down next to Evan with a sigh. She shrugged, sucking at her spoon for a moment as she gathered how to start. "Spike came over to get all the clothes I stole from him..." she muttered, looking down into her mug.

Evan: smiled lightly at the small kiss, looking up and watching her leave. Then he propped his own mug on his knees while waiting for Andrea to return, it was still rather hot so he just held on to it for a while, blowing over the rim before taking a little sip in hopes he doesn't burn himself. He didn't glance back up when she returned, finally taking proper sips of tea and remembering how bland it tastes, even with sugar but oh well. "What?" he spilled a little tea to the side when Andrea mentioned Spike, pulling a little too fast from the mug to look at her. He set it down on the table, wiping his wet hand on his shirt, "He went over?"

Andrea blinked and glanced over at Evan when he spilled his tea, concerned that he'd burned himself but he didn't seem to react too much, so she gathered that he was fine. "Yeah. Like, I had his clothes folded and ready to go and everything so I could just like, get them out and stop thinking about it." she traced the rim of her mug with her index finger. "And like, everything was fine. He grabbed his clothes and left and I thought that would be the last of it except he came back in and-." she sighed, forcing herself to take a sip of her tea. "I don't know. I'm dumb." she groaned, tilting her head to rest it on Evan's shoulder.

Evan: listened carefully. So what he's gathering is that she was going to end whatever it was she had going on with Spike and that was going to be it but then this guy came back in and something happened that has her in a right state. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck because going back in couldn't possibly be a good thing especially after what Andrea has told him. "You're not dumb," he mumbled, resting his cheek on top of her head, "I mean, I dunno what happened but you're not."

Andrea bit at her lower lip, burying her face into Evan's shoulder, because she wanted to talk about it but the whole situation just made her embarrassed and uncomfortable and the thought of talking about it was still making her flustered. "I almost slept with him again." she picked her head up from Evan's shoulder. "And I would've, if-" she lifted the hem of her shirt to show him the hickeys covering her torso before tugging it back down again, "he didn't get pissed off about the fact that he didn't put all of that there." she muttered, dipping her finger into her tea before sucking on it. "And I was just kind of like why the fuck does it even matter? And he basically told me that he likes me but-. He's dating Quinn and he's dumb."

Evan: drummed his fingers on the floor while he listened. He didn't exactly know what to say to the fact that she almost slept with Spike...again. Even after what happened the first time and okay he doesn't understand this fucking twat at all. He rejects Andrea and then they almost sleep together again. "Hm?" he raised an eyebrow and looked over at her when she stopped and noticed she lifted her shirt and oh, those were a lot of hickeys, he was about to ask if that was Spike but apparently it wasn't. Quinn -- that name sounds familiar and he suddenly remember the blonde girl he was talking to about going to San Fran and ​that's​ her. Wow. "Wait, let me get this straight; Spike rejects you, then you're about to end it, then you almost have sex again but then he gets pissed off because of marks ​he​ didn't leave? But he's dating Quinn even though he sort of told you he likes you?" Evan was honestly so confused with this Spike fellow because what's wrong with him? "Who the fuck hurt him that he's going around treating people like this? He's more than dumb he's a fucking a wanker."

Andrea chewed at her lip, and honestly she couldn't help but laugh because hearing Evan say it made the entire situation sound more nuts than it had when it happened. She slouched down, holding her stomach because she was giggling so hard she could hardly breathe. "Who hurt him? Tabitha. Supposedly." and okay, it wasn't any of Evan's business but it came out of her mouth before she could stop herself and she thinks she's finally lost it. "Anyways." she tried to force her giggles down. "I asked him why he'd ask Quinn out when he liked me, and he was all 'Because. I don't know what you want me to say. Tell me what you want me to say'." she made her voice deeper to imitate Spike's and put on the best British accent she could muster. "And when I asked if he liked both of us, he was just like 'That's not what I asked'. Like, bitch you told me to tell you what to say just answer my fucking question." she sighed in exasperation, her giggles finally going away. "Anyways. I told him that he picked Quinn so he needed to get out and he did. So. That's over." she reached for her tea again since she'd finally calmed down, taking a careful sip of it.

Evan: didn't know why Andrea was laughing but he figures a laugh is better than anything else. It kinda made him laugh a little too but that was cut off immediately once he heard Tabitha's name. "W-what?" What does Andrea mean by Tabitha and is it the Tabitha he's thinking about? What the hell does Spike have to do with Tabitha too? "By Tabitha do you mean Blake?" he asked, fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger. He tried to listen to the other things Andrea was telling him but ​Tabitha​, if he was right and she was talking about her then it's a really bloody small world after all. "That's ridiculous, he likes you but he chooses Quinn, how dumb can you possibly be?" especially because Andrea likes him and one would figure that would settle it but no. "It's his loss anyway..." he trailed off, "you deserve better than that."

Andrea shrugged her shoulder, using her spoon to drink her tea. "I don't know her last name? Blonde, button nose, kinda sassy." she stated, staring down into her tea. "I guess he got all mad because she wouldn't sleep with him, so he ended things and now he's all butthurt. I don't know. That's what he told me, at least." she seemed to pause, then; "What an ass. Can't believe I was into him..." or well, she still was, but she was very determined to stop. She rested her head on Evan's shoulder again, fixing her shirt because it was all twisted and rumpled from her lifting it earlier. "Thanks. I think so too..." she was trying to think so, at least.

Evan: knew just from that short description that it was the Tabitha he was thinking about. Evan scratched his jaw, one learns something new everyday. So Tabitha and Spike had a thing and since when does Tabitha even go for guys like that? Not that it's his business but he sounds like the biggest tosser he's come across. "Yeah, that's her." he grabbed his own mug off the table and took the longest drink there was only a little left after he set it back down. "He got pissed because she wouldn't sleep with him? Shit, he was lucky enough to even date her." Tabitha was much more than sex, did he not realize that? This is just one more reason why he's disliking him even more now. "You do, you deserve much better than a twit with a stick up his ass." he muttered - still a bit upset about the whole Tabitha thing.

Andrea blinked owlishly, looking up from her tea to look at Evan; did he have a thing with Tabitha? Should she ask? If Evan hadn't told her about it he probably didn't want to say anything. She leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly and using her index finger to turn his face towards her. "I'll always listen if you want to talk about it, okay?" she smiled, pecking his nose lightly before pulling away. She hopes that Evan knows that he can talk to her about things, even if he doesn't particularly want to; knowing you ​can​ talk to someone sometimes makes Andrea feel better without actually saying anything.

Evan: let out a small sigh, leaning into Andrea's touch. He thinks any other day he could talk to Andrea about Tabitha and tell ​someone​ instead of keeping it bottled in or spilled across pages. But today wasn't about him, it was about Andrea who came to him because she had another fallout with Spike. So instead he just nodded, "Okay." He scrunched up his nose a bit and went back to drinking his tea. He also wants to talk to Tabitha but he knows that isn't such a good idea because it could terribly like it always does. "So, what happens now?" he asked, turning back to the girl next to him.

Andrea watched Evan carefully for another moment, finishing off her tea and setting her mug on the coffee table. She didn't know what happens now; does he mean right in this moment or with Spike? Either way she wasn't sure, so she pushed herself up to her feet, stretching her arms up over her head before offering a hand out to him. "Bath?" she offered; it seemed like both of them could use it and well... taking turns seemed like it'd kind of ruin the whole vibe of it. They could get in at the same time? Andrea doesn't know how Evan would feel about that, but she doesn't think she'd mind; not with him, at least.

Evan: looked up at her, "You want to take a bath?" He didn't wait for a response and grabbed her hand anyway. He didn't know whether she meant her or him or both but a bath sounds nice. Warm water and music and relaxing after everything sounds ideal right now. So this time he led the way up to his room and opened the bathroom door, "Do you want to go first or what do you want to do?" He guesses she'll want to go in first or he doesn't know what she wants to do but he figures he'd ask.

Andrea chewed at her lip as she followed Evan up the steps to the bathroom, stepping into the bathroom when he opened the door and looking around. Should she even say it? Would that be weird? She doesn't think so. "... We could both get in?" she suggested, looking at him with innocent doe eyes as she turned the water on, sitting at the end of the tub and fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

Evan: raised his eyebrows because together? He wasn't opposed to the idea of taking a bath together, maybe he felt a little weird because this is Andrea, it's always been clothes on between them and it's just a bath but still. "If you want," he replied with a shrug, "I don't mind." He really doesn't, he just wants to make sure whether she does.

Andrea looked down at her feet, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't mind either." she ran a hand through her hair, turning to look around the bathroom. "Do you have any bath bombs?" she didn't exactly expect him to have any, but it'd be nice, if he did. She hummed quietly as she stood to her feet, going to look through his bathroom cabinets as if she belonged there.

Evan: shoved his hands in his pockets and took in a deep breath and after a moment he exhaled and nodded, "I don't mind, lets take a bath we need it." Evan, quite surprisingly, did have a bath bomb, "I actually do. Been meaning to try it, the woman down at the book shop was talking about them." She also said it was relaxing especially with a good book and Evan has been meaning to get back into properly reading. "It's over there." he pointed to the cabinet Andrea hasn't opened yet and he didn't know what bath bomb he got he kinda just let the person working choose one for him because he had to clue about these things.

Andrea turned to give Evan a small smile, chewing at her lip and opening up the cabinet he'd pointed to, finding the bath bomb in it's little packaging and humming as she grabbed it, pulling it out and taking a whiff of it. "Mm. This one's good. Good choice." she waited for the tub to fill up before turning the water off and plopping the bath bomb in, watching it sizzle and fizz and color the water dark purple as it moved around the tub and fill the room with it's smell. "Did you smell any of the other ones?" she asked, tugging her phone out of her pocket and setting it aside so she could start getting undressed.

Evan: watched Andrea take out the bath bomb, "Thank the person working there, they chose it not me." He leaned over the tub to look at the water turn into a different color and okay that was definitely cool. He'll have to make note to stock up on these things. "I did not, kinda just went in and out of there," he informed as he started taking off his flannel and setting it to the side, followed by his shirt. Then he grabbed a couple towels and set them closer so they could properly reach them.

Andrea pouted slightly, frowning at him slightly. "You should smell around next time. They have super yummy smelling ones." but she wasn't about to get into her fanaticism with LUSH products at the moment; Evan probably didn't want to hear her internal struggle over wanting to buy every single thing in the store but being too broke to actually get much. She tugged her shirt up and over her head, then shimmied out of her jeans, then everything else, letting them all pile up in one pile before climbing into the tub. She hummed happily, propping her feet up on the side of the tub to make space and slouching down. "Oh. What do you want to listen to?" she reached for her phone, body twisted so she wouldn't have to hold her phone over the bathwater.

Evan: snorted and nodded, "Yeah, alright, next time I'll smell around or you can come with and teach me your ways." If he went by himself he'd probably only spend five minutes and not smell around before choosing at random and making his way back for a coffee and a new book he only reads the first page of. He took off the rest of his clothes quickly and went into the water after Andrea, settling in and he's quite thankful this is a big tub because otherwise they would have fit rather awkwardly. "Um, The Growlers if not Fleetwood Mac or something, I'm not picky." He ran a wet hand through his hair before dropping it back into the purple water, drawing shapes and looking at it.

Andrea puffed her cheeks out, humming and clicking the Fleetwood Mac spotify station because it was already in her recommended and it was easy. She turned to sink back into the bath, letting her head tilt back to get her hair wet. "Hm, sure. If you want. I get stuck in there forever though because I want to try everything." she imagines it'd be a bit similar to the stereotypical girlfriend/boyfriend shopping trip where the boyfriend can't wait to get out and looks like he'd rather die than smell something else. "... Hey Evan?"

Evan: smiled, he knew all about being stuck in shops for hours but he never once minded. If the company is great then that's all there is to it. "I don't mind how long you take, years of spending hours in stores have really paid off." then again he also spends so much time in bookstores and music shops and even for clothes because he could spend hours looking for a new, specific band shirt or debating between two before buying both. "Hm?" he glanced up at her from the water, a little smile still on his face.

Andrea shrugged her shoulders sheepishly; she hated being the one waiting on someone when going shopping, so the thought of making someone else wait and make her feel the way she usually felt made her kind of uncomfortable. "If you say so." she sighed, hands skating over the top of the water and humming along to the song playing over her phone speaker. At his smile she couldn't help but smile a little herself - she was about to ask if he was feeling any better, but she didn't want to make him think about whatever had been bothering him again, and he seemed content enough. "Nothing. Just glad I met you, is all." while it wasn't what she'd been thinking about, it was entirely true.

Evan: tilted his head to the side, not expecting her to say that. "I'm glad I met you too, Wylie." he replied and he is. Andrea is one of the best friends he has, probably at the top of the list. It's like they understand each other, they know when one or the other wants to talk or not or when they're upset, etc. Evan thinks he'd do just about anything for the girl in front of him because she means a lot to him and it's awful that she keeps getting hurt and upset and he wishes he could do ​something​ about it.

Andrea chewed at her lip, sitting up and curling up so she could fit her feet in the tub, knees tucked up to her chest. "Like-...." she took a deep breath, scratching at her arm. "I don't know. Do you ever get the feeling that you're meant to know someone?" she wasn't looking at him as she said it, eyes trained on her legs.

Evan: looked up from the water at Andrea and well, he has felt like that. "Yeah, with certain people," he hummed, it's weird because all these people are placed in front of others but there's only less than a handful that really stand out, "you being one of them." And it was true, he's never really loved someone in the most platonic sense as he has Andrea.

Andrea glanced up at Evan, face flushing slightly and a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I feel the same way about you too." she straightened out her leg to wave her foot in front of Evan's face, giggling to herself. "I think maybe we were siblings in a past life or something." she told him, wiggling her toes.

Evan: smiled, it was nice to know the sentiment was returned. Evan snorted when she put her foot in front of him, reaching up to grab her ankle and move it to the side. "Maybe not siblings because I think taking baths together at this age would be a little weird." he laughed, he's sure there'd be something wrong about that but Evan's read about things of the sort so it doesn't really phase him, "perhaps best friends in every life we've lived or are living, yanno, alternate universes and shit."

Andrea squirmed when Evan's grabbed her ankle, pouting at him and planting her foot on his chest, digging her toes into his pectoral muscle. She shrugged her shoulders. "Some siblings might be into that..." she tried to keep a straight face, but sputtered into giggles again anyways. "I guess. It feels different than just best friends though..." she didn't mean that she had feelings for Evan that were other than platonic (that also didn't mean she denied he was really attractive), it just meant that the connection felt deeper than that.

Evan: let out a "Heey." when her foot was pressed against his chest, he pouted a little but decided to flick some water at her face. "I know the Greeks were." he laughed, now that he thinks about it, he wonders if his ancestors were into any funny business. He might look into that this summer. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he will admit, it does feel different but he can't even explain it himself.

Andrea turned away when Evan flicked water at her face, pouting at him and splashing him back. "You and your Greeks." she shook her head fondly, but couldn't help but be endeared slightly. She hummed, gaze going up to the ceiling as if she'd find the words she was looking for up there. "Like-... I don't know. Not just siblings. Maybe we were once, but maybe another time we were married, and another time you one of my parents or vice-versa, or like you saved my life or something." she shrugged, looking down at the water. "Or all of them. Just feels different." she muttered.

Evan: thought about it. The different alternatives that Andrea was giving him and well, he doesn't think they're too far off. Who knows what type of lives they've lived or are living. If there is such a thing as alternate universes then right now they could probably be meeting for the first time; the last time; passing each other in the street. They could have been related, together, divorced, the possibilities are endless. He didn't even splash water back at her when she did to him. "It does feel different." he repeated, he thinks it has to do with how comfortable they are around one another. How it feels different but not weird. How sitting in this tub with her feels as normal as taking a walk. "Reckon we could have been gods too or maybe we are with absolutely no recollection of it." he grinned, also adding; "or perhaps right now in some other world we're at Hogwarts working with spells and potions."

Andrea hummed, leaning her head on the edge of the tub and smiling at him. "Hogwarts." she snorted quietly, shutting her eyes and sighing quietly. "I was about to say that it sounds a lot better than being here, but there's still all that stupid romance shit even in the wizard world. God, why is love so fucking complicated?" it was a rhetorical question, but she couldn't help but ask it. She didn't understand why things had to be so complicated, or why when they weren't she ​made​ them complicated. Well... not that she'd planned on sleeping with Spike after they'd ended their... arrangement, or whatever it was. "Feelings suck." she whimpered quietly, finally removing her foot from it's place on Evan's chest and planting it back in the water to prop her feet up on the side of the tub again.

Evan: "Everything is better at Hogwarts apart from ​that​." he agreed, romance anywhere was complete bullshit. He doesn't know how to answer Andrea's question because frankly he doesn't know why it's so complicated either. One moment you could have everything and be happy and in love and the next it's over with or there's a fallout or something gets in the way. There are so many obstacles and it's all pretty fucked up sometimes. "They don't ​suck​, they're just unnecessary sometimes." he sighed with a shrug. He thinks it be nice to not feel anything after a breakup or after a big fight because it's awful but at the same time without all that hurt or irritation or whatever it is one feels, then there really is no point in even trying to be in a relationship with someone you love because it helps you grow as people and as a couple. At least, that's what Evan thinks.

Andrea opened her eyes to look at him, about to retaliate because ​feelings most definitely suck​, but she didn't feel like having an argument with a ​classics student and former law student​. It probably wouldn't do anything but make her frustrated. She took a deep breath, planting her feet back in the tub and using the edge of the tub to push herself to her feet. She grabbed one of the towels Evan had set aside to dry her hair as she stepped out, turning around to look at him. "Do you have any weed? I could really use a smoke." she kept the towel on her hair until it stopped dripping before wrapping it around herself.

Evan: slid deeper into the tub when Andrea got out, head resting back against the edge while he still thought about this whole emotions and romance thing. He didn't really pay much mind at the fact that Andrea was practically naked next to him because it feels completely normal in the sense that they're friends who are incredibly close. That's probably a little ironic considering that they might be close but they hardly talk about how they truly feel and tend to avoid going in depth with those messy topics. "Hm?" he looked over at her before realizing what she asked, "oh, I think I might, in the bookshelf, hidden behind my copy of The Odyssey is a little bag, at least that's where I left it last time." Andrea could help herself, he didn't really feel like smoking weed right now and instead sat up to reach over the tub for his flannel where his cigarettes and lighter were, pulling out a stick and lightning himself up, careful not to get it wet as he settled back down. He didn't feel like getting out right now, feeling a tad comfortable in the semi warm water.

Andrea hummed quietly, turning on her heel to walk into Evan's room and scanning his book shelf. It was such a systematic hiding place, Andrea wondered if she should bother to hide hers better. She'd probably forget by the time she got back anyways. She finally found his copy of The Odyssey, pulling it out and going up on tiptoe to see into the space it'd been in. She grabbed the weed and placed the book back, rummaging around his room for his pipe and setting it up before going back into the bathroom where Evan was still sitting in the tub. She lit up and took a drag as she dropped her towel, pulling her clothes back on and sitting at the edge of the tub. "Feeling better?" she asked, not looking at him because she was too focused on lighting up again. "Want me to wash your hair?" she offered.

Evan: should probably get out of the tub and open up the small window in the bathroom so it doesn't stink up of cigarette smoke but he doesn't want to get out yet. He wants to sit here until it dies down but he doesn't think he'll do that either. He blew out the smoke when Andrea came back inside, so she found his pipe he probably should have told her where it was before but at least she found it. "I feel alright." he replied with a nod. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back and thought about her offer, he could take a shower later but he'd probably be to lazy to so he nodded again, "Please?"

Andrea turned to look down at him, nodding her head and standing up from her place against the tub. "Put out your cigarette first?" She took a huge, deep drag from the pipe as she walked over to the sink, holding it in as she grabbed the cup sitting on the vanity and letting it out in a cough as she walked back over. She set the pipe aside, kicking her hoodie over closer to where Evan's head was so she could kneel on it.

Evan: pouted a little at the mention of putting out his cigarette but he couldn't very well smoke and have his hair washed, it'll go out anyway. So he snubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the tub and then let it drop to the floor, he'll pick it up later and also buy an ash tray that ​completes​ the room as his mother would say. "There." he said, sitting up a bit straighter.

Andrea rolled her eyes slightly, picking up the cigarette and tossing it in the bin before kneeling at the edge of the tub. "You British men and your cigarettes." she filled the cup and carefully dumped the water onto Evan's head before grabbing the shampoo, squirting a dollop into her hand and spreading it over her hands and between her fingers before working her hands through Evan's hair. She hummed along to the music still playing on her phone, her fingers massaging at Evan's scalp.

Evan: snorted, shaking his head, "Please, you Americans and your...whatever it is you even do." He sighed when Andrea started washing his hair, closing his eyes and enjoying the nice feeling of her fingers in his hair. He could easily fall asleep here he thinks, with Fleetwood Mac in the background and in the warm water but he reckons a nap in his bed is much better than in the tub where the water will be cold in a couple more minutes.

Andrea chewed back a smile. "Smoke pot and preach freedom." she snorted, making sure she'd gotten Evan's whole head before grabbing the cup again. "Shut your eyes." she placed the edge of her hand against his forehead anyways just in case, dipping the cup into the water to fill it and pouring it over his head, doing so a couple times before running her hands through his hair again to make sure it was all out. She grabbed the conditioner, distributing it between her fingers before running them through Evan's hair. "There we go." she leaned over the edge of the tub to rinse her hands off and press a kiss to his head, giving him a gentle smile. "Want me to clean you up too?" she offered.

Evan: "Bloody Americans and your lies and country music that has spread over the world." laughed Evan. He did as he was told and tried not to splutter when water fell over his eyes. When she was done with that he reached up to rub his face, blinking and trying not to shake his hair so not to splatter her. He hummed a long to the song while she finished, he tried stifling in a yawn because he was tired now, a day of doing absolutely nothing and all he wants is a nap. "Thanks." he mumbled. He reached down into the water to remove the plug while shaking his head, "Nah, I'm sleepy, can you please hand me a towel though?"

Andrea burst into giggles. "Shut up. I hate country music." she sighed, humming and reaching for the folded towel at his request as she stood to her feet, holding it out to him. "Maybe it's nap time then." she nodded her assent, because honestly now that she thought about it sleeping sounded kind of nice.

Evan: wrinkled his nose, "Everyone hates country music." It's completely terrible, he doesn't understand how some people find it enjoyable. He would much rather sit through listening to Elton John than country any day. He was a bit cold when he stepped out, instantly wrapping himself in the towel and grabbing another one to dry his hair. "Nap time sounds wonderful." he agreed, walking into his room in search of pajama bottoms and boxers. Finding a fresh pair of both he dropped his towel to put on his boxers and then his flannel pajama bottoms, sighing while letting the other towel hang around his shoulders. "Sleep?"

Andrea scrunched her nose up. "If they did there wouldn't be any more of it." she grabbed the pipe, the lighter, and her phone before following him back into his room, throwing her phone on the bed and sighing. "Yeah, just let me finish this." she put the pipe to her lips, lighting it up and inhaling deep as she walked over to crack the window open a little. She was determined to finish it off, so every time she lit it she inhaled like crazy until her lungs protested and she had to exhale. And once it got too harsh she set the pipe aside, plopping down onto Evan's bed and sighing heavily. "I was gonna say I owe you but you owed me before, so. Now we're even." she muttered.

Evan: nodded, letting Andrea finish what she was doing while walking back into the bathroom to pick up his clothes and throw them in the hamper but not before making sure he got his pack and lighter out to set them on his desk. He climbed into his bed and shoved the sheets down to get under them, waiting for Andrea to join him. "Glad to know we've sealed that off." he sighed, and then snuggled deeper into his bed, curling into himself and wow he was incredibly sleepy now that he's all cozy and warm in his blankets. "Wylieee," he whined, scooting in closer and peaking up at her, "cuddle me."

Andrea stared at the ceiling as Evan got settled under the covers, just staring off into space and thinking about well... nothing in particular honestly, which was kind of nice considering all she seemed to be doing lately was think too much. She looked down at Evan curiously, blinking owlishly at him before giggling. "What's the magic word?" she joked, having to build up her motivation to squirm around to get herself under the covers with the blonde. And once she was she grabbed his hand and guided him over to his side so she could be big spoon, scooting in close to him and fingertips trailing over his forearm. She used to do it to her little sister -trace little patterns on her skin -because it calmed her separation anxiety from their mom, but she found that it kind of soothed her too, somehow.

Evan: huffed, letting out a "Please?" and making himself comfortable when she arranged their new positions. He sighed, he hasn't done this in so long, be the little spoon since well, two years he reckons. It was nice and Andrea was warm and he could easily fall asleep in less than five minutes. "Hm' s'nice," he mumbled sleepily, letting his eyes flutter close, "Night." It wasn't even night time but he doesn't know how long he'll be out or whether Andrea will stay or not, he hopes she does. With that last thought, he fell asleep.

Addison

Addison sighed, squirming in front of Dean. "Truth or dare?" she practically whispered.