#traditionale

         he hated that he couldn’t cut his father out of his life. there were days when the older man treated henry as if he were his sibling and sometimes it took everything in him to bite back a sarcastic reply. if his father thought that they were a tragedy, then henry hated to think about what his father thought of him. since graduating from college, he hadn’t even managed to hold a job for very long and the job he did have, he was constantly late for. at least henry was out of his father’s house for the time being. he could be on his own and at least run his life the way he wanted to. his father was always angry and grumpy sounding for what reason, henry didn't know. maybe because he was too stupid to know anything about his children. sometimes he wished he had the courage to stand up to the man, but henry had long since decided he’d wear the badge of a coward with honor. henry had his problems to deal with and didn't need to sit and listen to his father complain about whatever was going on in his life, even if henry was the only one that ever sat and listened to him complain. at least he wasn't a piece of shit like his dad. he might be fucking his own life up, but that was his issue, not anyone else's problem and he didn’t drag anyone down with him.   "fucking piece of shit,” he muttered, looking down at the piece of paper that was still blank. “it’s a damn shame this place doesn’t serve alcohol,” he said to the person nearest to him. sometimes it was easier to write when he was wasted.

SAWYER ISN’T THE FORGETFUL TYPE.    spontaneous to a fault, yes     ––     but misplaces house keys was on the irresponsible end of the spectrum rather than the whimsical. she blames new year’s, accountability none taken. it had been a resolution of hers, to be easier on herself. not avoid all responsibility but to allow mistakes to be as simple as. and though her first bump in the road had been mundane enough, the january cold nips at blushed cheeks and she curses her nine hours ago self. suppose she should’ve used the opportunity to get a coffee, or drive to any of her FRIENDS’ houses … but she chooses a path paved by nostalgia and fluttering hearts. when he arrives, she’s seated on the porch    –    car keys ( usually attached to those lost ) in hand, playing with a rose toned rabbit’s foot. just be casual, kinney.    ‘    so… i locked myself out.    ,    straight to the point : carefree, easy peasy.    ‘    and i was thinking that, maybe, while i wait for steven to come home––that we could…    ,    she continues, confidence slipping, with a tone softened and eyes less direct. don’t make it weird.    ‘    that maybe we could do something. hang out.     ,    beat.    ‘    if you wanted to.    ,

         curled  up  against  the  headboard,  she  wraps  herself  up  in  one  of  steven’s  old  sweatshirts.  oversized,  engulfing  a  small  girl  completely  as  sleeves  are  pulled  over  her  hands,  concealing  chipped  polish.  there  was  a  WISH    :    that  she  could  sink  into  the  mattress  and  be  swallowed  whole  by  the  carpet  below,  to  disappear  and  never  come  back.  it’d  be  EASIER.  on  everyone  else,  too.  but  her  bed’s  as  still  as  herself,  sawyer’s  fate  then  sealed.  she’d  have  to  tell  him.  she  should’ve  told  him  sooner,  and  maybe  nothing  else  would’ve  happened.  maybe  an  almost  incident  would  have  been  forgivable.  hell   it  made  her  look  like  a  saint  in  comparison  to  the  last.  he’s  at  the  foot  of  her  bed  now,  not  that  she  dare  look  at  him.  she  can  already  sense  the  tears  welling  up,  lump  in  her  throat  formed  and  heart  hanging  on  by  a  thread.    “    i  need  to  tell  you  something,    ”    her  voice’s  light,  quiet,  yet  she  feels  it  carries  the  weight  of  the  world.     “    and  you’re  going  to  hate  me,    ”    inhale,  exhale  …  collect  yourself,  kinney.    “    i  don’t  want  you  to,  but  you  will.    ”    beat.    “    i  just    –    i need  to  tell  you.  and  if  you  …  if  you  never  wanna  talk  to  me  again,  i  get  it.    ”

     between shifts and free - time, she feels as if their time separated is slim. they’re together more often than not, despite the extracurriculars which should drive a wedge between them. and yet, when eyes are laid a cheekbone bruised, she feels as if yesterday morning was a LIFETIME ago. her bag lands on the floor with a  thump  and the space between them evaporates, fingertips hesitate against purple - toned skin, worry replacing an expression previously content.   “   what happened to your face ?   ”   it’s a grim throwback to a time months ago, when her question had gone unanswered and her approach rejected. she never got to know the story then, but she’d demand it now.

“Well what a turn out...” Glancing at the flyer, she moved closer to the boy in desperation about a lost dog, which was the only reason Adriana would be up so early on a day like this. “I came for the dog, the dog only. Where did you last see it? Did it just ran off? Are you a bad owner, is that why the dog decided to run away?... You know what, who cares? It’s probably lonely and cold and we better go and look for the damn dog right now.” With a hand resting on her hip, an eyebrow was raised in a bit of a judgemental stare. After all she had a soft spot for animal and mother nature and she couldn’t help to wonder why would the dog run away, and if by any means it was due to some sort of negative reasons the person in front of her better be good at running.