#thinkbrink

Also I’ve gotta have like a sixth sense for shipping or something because I knew they were gonna make Sam and Emma a thing before I even saw them on screen together

‧ ₊ ˚ ❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ . She was Little Miss Perfect. Molded to perfection and displayed the highest standards. The stress placed on her shoulders was sometimes too much to carry. Each time it was done with grace and little to no complaints. That is what was expected of Layla. Not from her parents, not from her school, not from her friends, not from family. [ At least, not those entirely. ] But by her own doing. She strived to be the best. It took a toll on her life. On her sanity and well - being. Layla did not know what to do when she was not in control. It caused a state of panic and stress. Something that she could not handle.

‘jesus fucking christ — thank you for that input, dr phil.’    the words come out sharper than intended, barbed with defensive feeble bile reserved for whenever someone gets too close to her truth.  she huffs out a humorless laugh right after, like she can smooth it over, but it only sounds more frangible in the silence that follows.  emma doesn’t even look up at jordan; keeps her gaze posted at the cold coffee in her hands.  god, she hates that jordan’s not wrong.  she hates that, more often than not, they're never wrong.

emma is more than aware harper isn’t her soulmate.  that idea is laughable all in itself.  but harper makes it easy to believe in stupid things again.  [so does ally and greg, but in different ways.]  it’s the kind of easy that scares emma, though.  harper says stuff like cosmetic connection and parallel energy with a straight face, and somehow it doesn’t sound like tiktok bullshit when she does.  [the blonde now knows where justine got half her agenda from.]  she watches the instagram reels emma sends and actually replies — not with an emoji reaction, but actual text. and in those moments, emma starts to feel like maybe the universe actually cares about her for once.  like it’s trying to give something back after taking for so long.  and that’s the honest truth: it's not love / not soulmates — just someone who makes her feel normal for five minutes in the midst of all their mass chaos. 

gaze glossy / the world a bit too hazy, emma’s in the middle of reading her roommate’s text when the phone slips out of her hand. party foul!

the imessage screen illuminates the sticky fraternity house floor, shoes coming within stomping distance. squatting and nearly falling over twice in the process, she somehow manages to pick the phone, and herself, back up without any more issues. [with four white claws and three translucent vodka shots in her system, it’s an absolute miracle.]

reading over jordan’s text once more, her mind races momentarily in a drunken state of decision-making before finally crafting her response.