feeling this bad

---         the great war.

@thegrectwar a new, independent & selective multimuse roleplay blog featuring muses from the summer i turned pretty, outer banks, shadow & bone, && more. multiverse, crossover & oc friendly. written by steph. beta user.

"You mean this won't be the last time I kicked your ass?" he chuckles lightly, raising an eyebrow at his friend. As kids Steven, Jeremiah, and Belly had all started following him around, leading his mother to remind Conrad that they were always watching. He'd never asked to be a role model or the leader of the group by any means, but seemingly this is how it went. Maybe that's why it'd been so hard for him to watch them feel the weight of Susannah's illness -- knowing that he'd been the one to lead him into the darkness. But days like this one brought them back into the light, days when they can just enjoy the summer. Possibly the last summer here in Cousins. "I would agree with that. I'll kick your ass tomorrow and the next day and the next day, dude." A large grin sits on Conrad's features, his eyes lingering on Steven as if in a challenge to go again.

When Cassie had arrived to Boston, Conrad hadn't really thought that they'd end up close. This year, of course, had been hard for him and admittedly, finding anyone to hang out with that didn't make him want to fade into the background was a win. Still, it didn't mean Conrad didn't get lost in his own mind-- not realizing how late it was as they sat on a roof of a party house that was slowly but surely losing the chaotic noise of the party he'd hid from, blunt in his hands. "Shit-- yeah. You're right," he laughs to himself. Clearly that blunt had impacted the perception of the night as he stares at the bright light of his phone. "You need a ride or something? My brother's on DD-duty."

Looking around his surroundings, being drunk and lost is maybe not an ideal state for himself. Instead, he should be back at the house laying by the pool, instead he's on the beach, crashing some party with people he doesn't know. "I mean, if I knew, I probably wouldn't have called you," he snorts, as if the misfortunate circumstances weren't of his own making. "I see a Shell gas station off the beach. That give you any ideas? Because it's giving me ideas-- slushie ideas. You want one, man?" Slushies were always one of Belly's favorites. Speaking of, he should find Belly.

Conrad can't help but want to always fade into the background. It's where it's comfortable. It's where it's safe. Since his mother's downturn, he's been coming to Cousins on the weekend, instead of staying at Brown. It might be the spring but there are still plenty of people lounging on the beach. Tucking his hands further into his hoodie, he shrugs. It's not like he wasn't listening to Piper but he also wasn't listening with intent. "Sorry," he says softly. "No, go ahead. I just kinda zoned out," he shrugs, refocusing on Piper.

.

The two solo cups in his hands crumpled as pairs of eyes turned on the two men. Rafe getting in someone’s face wasn’t new. JJ being in the middle of an almost brawl wasn’t either. It was the way Rafe was saying the quiet thing out loud. The acknowledgement of the thing that everyone knew but no one really knew how to handle, so they chose to ignore it. But there he was, the Cameron son getting in JJ’s face, laying it out on the table. The blonde was the same height as him, but he never felt smaller as he averted blue eyes from Rafe’s face. Starting fights on the beach was one thing. This was the wrong side of the island for his behavior. Something broke in this house and he’d be behind bars for trespassing and vandalism. But his blood was lava beneath the surface, waiting to erupt. Count to ten in your head to control yourself, Pope had advised him once as he cradled bruised knuckles in front of the principal’s office. You can’t keep blowing up.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five… Run on home. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eyes lifted as a crooked mischievous smirk graced half his face. “Awe Rafe. But if I left we wouldn’t be able to have one of our amazing talks.” Setting a cup down and watching it get grabbed immediately, JJ reached out to pat Rafe’s chest. “But, I’m taking you away from a line of coke or something aren’t I? So…you go that way, I’ll go this way. Call it even.”

.

The fact that the blond Pogue thought that Rafe was interested in negotiating was actually kind of funny to Rafe. While his father had always told him that there was an art to negotiating terms, his son had no interest in it. It was his way or not and it not being his way was simply not an option-- at least when it came to JJ. You give that kid an inch and he takes it a mile. “That’s not even. Not even close,” he assures him, jaw clenching as Topper joins the crew behind him. It wasn’t uncommon for them to join up against the Pogues, knowing that the kids from the wrong side of the island would do anything-- even pulling a gun out. “I said,” he reemphasizes. “Run on home. Round up your shitty little friends and head on back where you belong.” Rafe wasn’t delusional, he knew that JJ would be on him in a second if they were anywhere else. His sarcasm would only run for so long though. “You can leave Kie though,” he grins, his eyes daring JJ. 

“Some of them come by a schedule. Sometimes you’re just meant to wait and watch. See if you’re lucky enough to spy a shooting star,” Wylan shrugged. There were a few he knew would come every few years like clockwork, maybe a hundred years. That wasn’t every one though, which made waiting and watching the night just sound like something special. He smiled, tiny and hidden on his face up at Mal.

“I’ve heard that before. There’s a lot of punishments out there for idle hands,” Wylan nodded. “I was never very fond of that. I guess you’re right - maybe we’re not meant for a night of peace.”

.

"Just seems like you could watch forever and never find one,” he mentions, peering up as if in that moment he might get lucky enough. Mal had been fighting for so long, it seemed crazy to think that beyond navigating using the stars, he would be content with the idea of laying there and simply being. But at least he was in good company. It seemed that Wylan might feel the same-- uncomfortable with comfortable. “Someday, I hope to be. Once all of this is done and gone and simply a terrible memory.”