Realistic or Modern Auburn Springs

[Winona]

​

Mason stared into the cracked mirror in front of him. He looked at his reflection -- at the dark eyes, the dark hair, the flannel that he had freshly washed and dried for this very day. The day that he sold his soul to the devil, so to speak. The day that he crossed the river to the other side. Because someone -- and certainly obviously not him, nope no way -- had managed to catch the fucking school on fire. Had him and his classmates spoken about it on a nearly daily basis, especially around exam time? Of course! Had Mason been serious at all during that time? Obviously of fucking course not.

He was a strong guy. Emotionally unyielding. However, every guy had their breaking point, and Mason's breaking point was having to share the same school as some people that he considered to be lower than the dirt on the bottom of his Converse. People like fucking Chelsea and his little minions like that Dexter fuck and... okay, to be fair, Mason couldn't think of anyone else off the top of his head.

But he was already done and Mason hadn't even stepped out the door yet.

"I'm not going. I'm quitting. Dropping out." Mason announced to no one in particular. Maybe just to himself, to give himself this sense of determination, so to speak. Maybe if he announced it aloud, he'd actually follow through on something for once.

"WHAT?!"

Oh right. The paper thin walls of the apartment didn't keep noise contained to any one room. His voice had probably sounded as clear as day in the shared bedroom between himself and his little fuck up of a brother, Drake. As was (occasionally) per usual for his brother, he'd been up way too fucking early to go for a run and had already been in the shower before Mason had a chance to see him.

Now, his brother slammed into the bathroom door and it banged open with a large crash. Mason glared over at him and started to open his mouth to berate his brother, but that was before he noticed his getup. Well, for the most part he looked like a normal sophomore boy -- jeans, no shirt because he had yet to find one apparently, but it was what was on his head that had Mason reeling.

"You can't drop out your senior year!" Drake was yelling.

"Is that a shower cap on your head?" Mason asked, gesturing to the pink plastic wrap on his brother's head.

"I didn't want to get my hair wet before school," he whined. "I need to look good, you know? For the singles, Mason. This is a new chance for us. I'm going to find myself a hot person and marry rich so I never have to work again."

"But no one's gonna wanna hang around you. Your hair smells like weed and cigarettes."

"You smell like weed and cigarettes."

"Well no duh." Mason rolled his eyes and turned back towards the mirror. "Get dressed. We're leaving in five minutes. I gotta drop Ari off at Lydia's." And then, they'd make the trip across the bridge and straight into the lion's den.

-----------------------------------------------------

Another thing that would always leave Mason reeling in anger was public transportation. When Ambridge was still up, Drake and him were able to walk to their school and avoid having to ride the school buses. The morning walk had been a godsend of sorts -- it had given Mason a chance to smoke a cigarette and occasionally, Raven would join them on the way. It was nice.

Instead, today, Mason and Drake had to make their way to the bus stop. He felt like an idiot standing by the side of the road, waiting for their bus to come, and why the fuck was he nervous? These were just... Auburn Springs fucks. Mason knew how to deal with those fuckers. But he knew it was less about himself -- it was people like his little brother who stood next to him at the bus stop with those ridiculous fucking pink sunglasses resting on his face. Those were the ones he was worried about. Mason could roll with the punches, the teasing, and be fine -- he'd done it for years, what was one more? -- but Drake didn't know what it was like on the other side of the river. Down here, everyone loved him. He was like the community's little brother. But up there?

Up there he was just another fucking street rat with nothing going for him.

"Starting the morning off with a smoke instead of breakfast?" Drake asked.

Mason rolled his eyes as he inhaled on the cigarette and then pulled it from his lips, exhaling slowly. "Breakfast of champions right here, Drake." He said and held the cigarette out towards Drake with a smirk. Drake recoiled from it, nose wrinkled up, and Mason laughed as he took another drag on it. Drake hated cigarettes -- hated the smell, hated the feel, whereas Mason always kept a box in his pocket, and it was vice versa for Drake with weed -- Mason wouldn't touch the shit because he hated the feeling of being unaware, but he knew Drake had a joint in his backpack ready to go.

The bus's rumbling sounded from down the street and Mason looked over his shoulder to watch as it came rolling down their street. He dropped his cigarette and ground it in with his Converse before looking back right as it came to a screeching halt beside the brothers. The doors creaked their way open and Mason, sucking in a deep breath before he started up the stairs.

His bulky frame made the whole bus riding thing even worse than it should have been as he headed down the middle until he got to the back, where he swung himself into a seat and sank down as low as he could against the window. Drake had gotten distracted by someone near the front of the bus, and that was fine. Mason needed a break from his brother. A time to just sit and stew in his own thoughts.

He looked out the window as the bus finished its route until the only empty seat was the one beside him -- none of the other students dared try to sit with him, even if a few of the seats were packed with three. The city of Ambridge soon disappeared from view and they were on the bridge and Mason's stomach started to twist. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with Auburn Springs -- they crossed the bridge during the football games, for example -- but this felt different. For the games, he was still surrounded by his fellow Ambridgers. But here? He'd be surrounded by them.

The bus came to a grinding halt outside of the school and Mason was one of the last off the bus. The moment his shoes touched Auburn Springs soil, he was on edge. There were teachers all over the place directing them towards the auditorium for... wait did they fucking say buddies? They were doing a fucking buddy system like the Ambridgers were fucking five year olds? What in the actual fuck?

He couldn't get distracted by that, though. That was probably what the Auburn Springs fucks wanted. Instead, Mason looked through the crowd until he caught sight of Drake in his hot pink sunglasses walking away from him.

Mason shoved his way through the students, not even caring who he knocked out of his fucking way, until he caught up with his brother and grabbed his backpack and pulled Drake to a quick halt. With one hand still on the backpack, he yanked Drake back towards him and glared down at him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snapped.

Drake looked at him, bewilderment in his eyes. "I was going to the auditorium like they said."

"No, no you're not. Not yet." Mason snapped and finally released his hold on Drake's backpack. "You're staying with me." He stated, glaring down at his little brother.

"But--"

"No."

Drake huffed and as far as Mason was concerned, his little brother could throw the biggest hissy fit he wanted. He was not getting away from Mason. End of story. And his brother obviously knew that because his shoulders slumped in defeat. "What are we doing, then?" Drake grumbled. "Just standing here?"

"Waiting for the others." He stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seriously?" Drake asked. "You don't think Raven, Dani, Sly, Ry-- Okay, maybe Ryan can't handle himself. But the rest of them? They'll be fine. This is stupid. Let's just go to the auditorium and wait for them there. You aren't even going to see them in this crowd, Mason!" He gestured around at the crowd surrounding them.

Mason hated it when Drake was right.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Reluctantly, Mason allowed Drake to lead the way as they followed the rest of the crowd to the auditorium which was thrumming with activity. The brothers picked an area near the middle that was widely unpopulated and took their seats. Drake leaned back in his, backpack on his lap, and pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. It pushed his hair back so that it stuck out at all kinds of crazy angles -- which just made Mason roll his eyes.

Mason, on the other hand, remained on the edge of his seat. His foot tapped against the ground rapidly while his elbows rested on his knees and his hands clasped together. He watched as people came in, his jaw clenched tight. He was on edge and ready to snap at even the smallest of inconveniences.

Mason & Drake

INTERACTIONS: N/A

MENTIONS: Too many

TAGS:

code by valen t.

 

[Chimney Swift]

Oliver

Oliver had never, ever liked parties.

Parties reminded him of home. Of being trapped in his room, of violent alcoholics, of strange men, of... vile and horrible things that had been done to him. To say that most of the more traumatic events of his life had been connected to parties and drinking was certainly not an understatement.

On top of that, parties were loud. Parties were crowded. And at least in his experience, they tended to be violent. Indeed, they were everything Oliver hated, and yet here he was, buttoning up his new (and very stolen) shirt, running his fingers through his freshly-washed dark hair. Lance had helped him steal the outfit, as he had sort of taken Oliver on for the night. Oliver hadn't been quite sure what people wore to parties, to be honest. He had eventually decided that maybe yellow was a party color, for some reason. It just seemed fitting. And as for Oliver himself, he had been determined as of late to try new things. His friends had been pressuring him to push his boundaries a little. He was learning to fight back literally, but scarier than that was fighting back against his strong-as-steel instinct to avoid noise and intoxicated people. Even though he had long since resolved himself to attend, his knees hadn't stopped shaking since the morning and he was even paler than he usually was. This wasn't just a regular drunken apartment brawl, after all. This was Val's party. This was going to be completely outside the realm of the wildest side of his imagination.

He really should not be doing this. This was practically suicide. This was just asking for a meltdown. He had Lance watching his back, but to be honest Oliver didn't know Lance that well yet and he could be a little much to handle at the best of times. Lance was overwhelming in and of himself. At least, from what he'd heard on Twitter, some more reliable friends would be in attendance. Even Raven had been convinced to go, somehow. The whole situation with Raven and Valerie was very confusing. He thought so, anyway.

Oliver cringed a little at his reflection in Dani's mirror. God, compared to his peers he looked like such a child. All big head and gangly limbs, wide brown eyes and a dorky lopsided smile. He was barely 5'5, weighed less than 120 pounds soaking wet. He had actually lost about 3 pounds this week; he hadn't been eating lunch at school because of the stress. And then there was the bandage still on his broken hand. which really wasn't helping the healing process much at all, which somehow really completed the look. He just looked... very much himself, in a sad and painful sort of way. He always complained when his friends condescended him by calling him juvenile, but in more than one sense they kind of weren't wrong. He was young, and naive enough to still be frightened. The only thing he could do to change that impression was to gain some experience, and he... hadn't been doing too well with that.

He had a pencil tucked into his pocket; and the first hundred or so prime numbers fresh in his head. Over the past couple of days, he'd picked up those as coping mechanisms for his near-constant anxiety. Silas had suggested Xanax. His other friends were quick to aggressively shut that suggestion down. That conversation had sort of spiraled, aggravated by all sides until it became yet another cataclysmic fight. The fighting, even the less serious altercations, scared the absolute shit out of Oliver. Losing his friends was the penultimate nightmare scenario, second only to horseshoe crabs. Crustaceans were just giant armored bugs from hell; he had no idea why everyone else seemed okay with them. But aside from that, the mere thought of being rejected by the family he'd built up over the years was practically enough to kill the boy. He knew where he'd be without them. He would, without a shadow of a doubt, be dead.

Still, since the fight Oliver had rejoined the group chat, tried to mend the broken fences, and prayed everything would slowly return to normal. He had ended up leaving the school early to come back to Dani's place and calm down. He wasn't particularly proud of this; Oliver prized his grades and he already felt himself starting to slip under the pressure. This whole week had been hard on all of them.

If there was ever a time the Ambridge gang had to stick together, though, it was this party.

Oliver left a little bit before Dani. He was fairly certain he'd made her angry again on Twitter earlier in the morning... god, he needed to stop divulging so much information online. Besides, she was driving with Sly, and Oliver was more than a little scared about carpooling with people on a night when people were going to be drinking. So he was walking with Ryan instead. He really still wasn't surer whether or not he should to be drinking, to be honest. He promised Drake he would follow along, but still. On the one hand he really wanted to have more experiences, be more like his friends who seemed to be growing up so much faster than him... but on the other hand alcohol had caused him a lot of problems in his life. His mother was a violently angry drunk, and all the angrier sober. His two older sisters, in turn, became alcoholics as they grew older, quickly becoming the spitting images of their parent. Oliver himself hadn't ever been tempted to touch it before, though. The last thing he needed in his life up until now was to have less functional judgment. The truth was, though, that he probably had the same addictive tendencies as his family somewhere buried under all the anxiety. That was the actual scary part.

By the time he and Ryan turned onto the road leading to Valerie's house, though, Oliver had thoroughly formulated his little experiment. He was going to drink whatever and however much Drake told him to, take some field notes, measure his heart rate before and after, then drink some more, take more notes, and so on. It sounded really smart in his head. Well, it kind of didn't. He wasn't too sure about it at all, actually. Drake had been far from reassuring and his other friends were quick to advise against this idea. But he'd worked so hard on it, and the pressure to grow and gain experience was far too much for the more rational side of his mind.

Was this going to be a disaster? Probably. But, gritting his teeth and shyly edging through Val's front door, he convinced himself he had no other choices.

Just about as soon as Oliver set foot in the room, an immediate shock of anxiety coursed through him as if he'd stepped on a live wire. Too loud. Too many people. Nope, nope nope nope. He startled back out, gasping shallowly and grabbing his pencil out of his pocket, running his thumb along the smooth painted wood.

Think of calming things... Quiet spaces. cereal. Cats. Homework. Marie Curie.

Okay, he had this. With one last nervous glance up at Ryan, he whispered barely above the noise, "I have to find Drake now... uh, well. I- See you in a bit." And back in he went, fighting the instinct to cover his eyes.

Drake was not that hard to find, even in the palpitation-inducing swarm of other teens. His friend had a distinctive look, to say the least. Oliver slowly approached, clutching his pencil and notebook close, and delicately tapped him on the shoulder with the wrist of his broken hand.

"Hey, uh... hi Drake. It's been a while, hasn't it? I have, um... I asked around for some of your homework and I got your textbooks for you. But we can look at those another time?" He was speaking very fast and very quietly, bouncing up and down on his heels. "I'm... I'm ready to start, whenever you are. My heart rate is 150 BPM as of five minutes ago, taking into account that I was walking and, uh... not feeling very good. Are you good? You don't seem good. People who are doing good go to class. I... should stop talking. You're the expert, so uh..." he stopped talking, making a vague gesture that seemed to beg Drake to show him where to start.

They had an experiment to conduct.

mood

Uneasy

outfit

this!

interactions

Drake, Ryan

tags

Winona geminiy

♡coded by uxie♡