#rylan.

“    you    can’t    just    tell    me    you’d    never    been    fucked    and    expect    me    to    just    go    back    to    fucking    math    work    [    !    ]    ”

open to f

plot : my muse is failing ( in college ) and yours is tutoring them, and s*x happened to come up !

   grayson didn't usually stay home on off days, not that he was really ever at home. tonight was different. tonight he knew that andrej wouldn't be around for a while, emmett was off visiting family, and so, he had the house all to himself. well, minus aristotle, but that was always welcomed company. at first, the idea of being home somewhat alone was what excited him, even grayson enjoyed peace and quiet sometimes, but when he found that rylan didn't have plans tonight, his mood instantly brightened to know he would be alone with his favorite roommate. even though he wanted nothing more than to slip into her bedroom and get lost in her, grayson also made it a point to respect her space. it was only with rylan that he cared to consider anything, including his fake relationship. he hasn't made it a point to tell her about it, so he was honestly just hoping she'd never find out. of course, when one did go on fake dates with your fake boyfriend from time to time, well, it wouldn't be so shocking to him if she ever spotted them during one of those times. as his mind clouded with thoughts of rylan, her reaction, her eyes, he heard the door to her bedroom open. 

where: her place

She wasn’t answering her phone calls, or her texts.  That’s when Zion knew something was wrong. She was always willing to talk, sometimes too much. The caretaker and the first responder in him needs to make sure she’s okay, he’d kick himself if she wasn’t, and he hadn’t done anything to try and help. So on his day off, he decides to check in on her, if only to make sure she’s alive. There was a killer on the loose, after all. 

There’s a coffee shop just between their places, small, usually not crowded, and it has better coffee than any chain could ever have, so he stops in and picks up two lattes, along with some pastries he thinks she’ll like, before heading over.

He knows she’s home, so when there’s no answer, he finds the spare key and lets himself in. “Ry?!” he calls out, keeping his voice even and smooth, rather than how frantic he feels inside not knowing what’s going on with his friend. “It’s me, Zion? Are you all right?” he continues as he walks through her place, finally landing on the bedroom, he knocks hesitatingly on the door, hoping she’ll let him in. 

The night never should have ended like this. Rylan was trying desperately to pull her away from the carnage. Juliette was hardly new to the sight of dead bodies, corpses never shook her, but the sight of seeing the living become said corpses, with the idea that maybe she could save them, that she could make a difference---that is what shook her to her very core.

So when Rylan insisted that she had to forget about them, to just walk away and continue her life, something broke in her. 

Juliette let out a howl that pierced even the chorus of shrieks around them, and she pulled hard away from him, trying desperately to claw at the ground like it was going to solve anything. There was already blood on her hands from trying to help, from trying to save lives that were so clearly already lost.

She just could not take it. 

All she wanted to do was help. It tore at her straight into her heart, pulling out images of herself, desperate, scared and alone, wishing somebody, anybody, would just come save her. 

Her voice tore out of her throat like a battle cry of a woman who had lost everything, instead of the little girl she looked like. Juliette looked at Rylan, her pale face streaked with tears and blood. Her eyes were wild, the clear blue contrasting harshly against her black hair which matted to her cheeks.

“They are scared! I can feel it, they are scared, and what are we if we leave them----”

She choked on the air, ever thickening with smoke. Juliette turned to look at the carnage behind them. She looked to him again.