#strength ft. devil

in an attempt to avoid rhys cooper, benji found himself at the drinks table. he didn't even drink. it became an excuse, he was the dd. he was the responsible one. truth be told, he'd never been drunk before. the most he ever drank was a single beer, that quickly grew warm and stale in his hand, mostly just as a cover for not being lame to his fellow lax bros. he couldn't tell them it would just remind him of his bumbling father. but now in front of all these judgmental adults, who acted like they could see through him, he wished he could dull his senses. let alcohol numb his senses, dull his paranoia. but instead he just stared at the flutes of expensive champagne. his jaw was so clenched it began to hurt. if it wasn't for the flash of red, he might have stayed in his daze. but tris knew how to draw attention. it was a relief. someone who knew how to let the glares of the pretentious guests roll off her back. he mustered a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, "you look good, as always, tris," his eyes dropped to her dress before they found her face again, "is pulling me out like ol' yeller still off the table?" he teased, before handing her a champagne he had just been glaring holes into.

benji often found himself at the nest. it was an easy way to pass the time before a shift at the gas station, or meet people to pass the time with. but he already knew tris. he had known her since he helped kiri move into their shared apartment. he tried not to think about it too much. it would make his heart ache. so instead he came back to the shared table with two shots in hand, sliding them over to tris, "don julio, as requested," he also tried not to think about the fact his grocery money was now sitting liquified in front of tris, and he wouldn't even get to indulge. an easy smile covered his face, despite this, "you gotta take mine for me though,"