#slccplessniights

morgan and cameron hated each other, that much was clear. they left passive aggressive notes on the fridge, they ignored said passive aggressive notes, and they deliberately avoided each other — aside from when they were having sex. the fact that the sex was good just made the whole situation even more frustrating. the best way to deal with frustration, in morgan’s experience, was to go out, get wasted, and bring someone hot home. the hangover, though? not worth it. he crawled out of bed to take an aspirin and found the evidence of his one night stand’s presence at the table — a now-empty bowl of cereal, complete with spilled milk droplets. gross. morgan let out a groan and headed for the fridge. “please tell me he didn’t finish the milk.”

"Oh."  Opal was a little surprised that Milo came to her house to check on her, but the thought was nice. She had been dumped her boyfriend because he confirmed her suspicions of cheating and didn’t deny it when she brought it up. So, Opal was clearly upset. But that was a few days ago, and luckily because it had been March Break, she didn’t have to have a reason to go out anywhere and could just sit at home, watch movies and continue on with her life. “I’m doing okay, thank you for asking.” Usually she was a chatterbox, but toned it down a little bit. Milo was the only person who actually seemed to care about her, even her clique of friends just made jokes about the situation and weren’t really as sympathetic as she could see in his eyes. 

“wait, you seriously haven’t seen the video? that’s kind of comforting. i thought everyone had. or is it just because you’re, like...from out of town or whatever? because no offense, but before today, i had no idea who you even were.” 

“wait — fuck, are you crying?”

tim had been beyond smug when his band had blown up — one of his first thoughts, bizarrely, had been something along the lines of can’t wait to see the look on archer’s face. when their publicists had arranged a meeting, he’d been puzzled but glad — what better opportunity to gloat further? except he hadn’t even gotten the chance. their teams had sprung the idea of a “pr relationship” on them before either of them could blink, all based on the online buzz over a paparazzi photo of tim and archer outside of a club. they’d been taking a smoke break, for fuck’s sake, but of course people were going insane over it. and tim’s ‘image,’ as his manager put it, was... less than stellar. he was a little too much of a bad boy, which, if you asked him, was bullshit — wasn’t that a good thing? but no, apparently not. 

so there they were, on a “date” at a popular ice cream parlor, surrounded by paparazzi and gawping onlookers, holding hands so tightly tim felt sure he might actually break one of archer’s tiny, birdlike bones. teeth gritted in a false grin, he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “smile, bitch. you’re making it look like i’m torturing you.”