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Realistic or Modern Haven Falls

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the eve of destruction.



parker hunt.













mood.

excited.











outfit

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5d/e9/fb/5de9fb0d88e7f34fe9b01d6446dfbf31.jpg











location

her dorm.











interactions

bazzy boy.











tags.

matchaa matchaa















Parker felt content with how things were going with Baz. It scared the fuck out of her but at least the conversation of defining whatever the fuck they were had not been brought up again. She had spent Christmas at his house with his big family, and something inside of her tugged. She had wished she were that close with her family, but instead, her parents just threw money at her and called it love.

Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and of course, she was going to a party. Practically everyone was. But she was going with her Bazzy boy, whom she planned on kissing at midnight if he played his cards right. Which mostly meant not asking her about what they were. In Parker’s mind, they were just 2 best friends who kissed sometimes. She had reluctantly agreed to let Baz drive them tonight, but mostly because she planned on getting drunk and didn't want to be responsible for anything except herself.

She walked out and smiled as she saw Baz outside his car. She sauntered up to him and kissed him on the cheek,
“Hi.”
She smiled and gave him a hug,
“You and this lame-o ford ready to go?”
She teased.


♡coded by uxie♡
 
Luciana Navarro Berrocal
the cool girl
New Year’s Eve wasn’t exactly something that Luci celebrated. If she were being honest, celebrations were not exactly something the Navarro household was known for. Still, since her arrival at Haven Falls, well, somehow she found herself in the middle of it, some more eventful than the others, along with worse and better outcomes out of them. But still, it was something unexpected that at the beginning she thought she would hate, just to find out maybe it wasn’t that bad after all.

Perhaps that was the reason she wasn’t against the idea of going to a party to celebrate New Year’s Eve. After all, spending time with her boyfriend didn’t sound like a bad idea. A couple of months ago, she would have laughed at the thought of being in a committed relationship. Still, Damien proved her wrong, even in his dorky and sometimes a bit too exaggerated persona, but again, nothing in her life had been the way Luci planned since she arrived in Haven Falls.

Now, about the party, Luci had a lot to say; she didn’t believe one bit that the guy hosting a party lived there. If he thought he was fooling anyone, well, that meant everyone in that town was just as stupid as him. But she wasn’t going to be the one asking the questions, although she could admit it was decent enough and didn’t look like a shithole.

“Better than I expected, not exactly the type of parties I am used to, but at least it’s not in some sketchy alleyway where I suppose that Drake guy lived.”
She said to Damien as she took a sip of her drink; the taste of cheap alcohol was something Luci had somehow managed to get used to. Did she like it not one bit, but at least it did its job.
“So, this is exactly how you guys celebrate New Year’s Eve. Somehow, I thought it would be quite different.”

mood: neutral
outfit: here
location: party
interactions: Winona Winona
Tove Lo - Cool Girl

coded by Stardust Galaxy
 


















Eve of Destruction





Mickey fiddled with the dials and settings on the mixers. Trying to correct the clipping Seth spoke of. He wasn’t all that used to managing this aspect of music but he had a basic grasp. How hard can it be anyways? Keeping his hands busy kept him from thinking of the other issues Seth had mentioned, the missing half of their band.

He’d known Lacey was already at the party, it was just a matter of where she was now. As the fellow member of Violet Season seemed to be thinking out loud Mickey waved his hand fervently to try and dispel the pot smoke that was now lingering around the area where they would be playing. He despised the stench of weed, and how it seemed to cling to every fiber of his being.

Especially his hair. He’d be scrubbing his hair with the contents of that papaya mango shampoo his mother had sent him back to school with.

He shot him a look as he finished working on the audio equipment. Hoping Seth would take it as a sign to put that fucking thing out. Instead he offered it closer to him. Mickey waved his hand a little bit more aggressively
“Would you get that outta here?”
He said, perhaps a little bit more frustrated than he had meant to be.

“But yeah, one of us should.”
He agreed. Lacey had seemed a bit nervous to play, but she did seem somewhat excited to play. Especially since some of them were gonna be songs she had written. Last he’d seen her she was heading off with that boyfriend of hers.

“I think I wanna mess with the electronics a bit more. I can hold it down so when-slash-if Fletcher makes an appearance he can find one of us.”
He said, starting to wonder if he could still play on a dose of anxiety medication from the bottle in his backpack.






























sit next to me












♡coded by uxie♡

 
container
Merriweather
mood
worried
outfit
location
the taylor residence
interactions
tw: drugs/fallout of a drug overdose, mention of medical situations, uncertainty over the medical status of a loved one, high stress events, people generally having a rough night

Misfortune seemed to be attracted to her nephew like a magnet. As Merriweather felt the ice cold grip of dread squeeze its fist around her heart she wondered if this was what her dear sister-in-law had felt when she saw him fall off that horse.

She had been miles away from the incident but still somehow made the list of people Renee had called.

"Oh Merri, I don't think I'll ever get that scream outta my head"

A chill shimmied up her spine as the memory replayed in her own memory. She kept her hands moving to softly reassure the girl in her arms to force herself out of that replay of the past and into the present.

"That's right, you did everything right, sugar."
Merriweather reassured as Phoenix arrived at her side. Before she could think about it she was smoothing her hands over his head as well.

Revealing his eyes as she pushed the hair away from them as he looked up at her, the level of sorrow in his gaze struck her. Those were eyes that had seen too much for a young man she'd heard was just a few months younger than Wes himself. His body hung off his frame that spoke to the way he was essentially trying to be someone he wasn't.

His parents.

Maybe it was her perspective as a mother that let Merriweather see what he really was.

A boy.

She had always wanted Claudia Jean to have a brother. A sibling of any sort really. But between her body's own failure to be able to get pregnant at all after her daughter and Brady's indifference to the idea. It wasn't meant to be.

"You're doing everything you can."
It seemed as if she were speaking to both the Price children equally. It was a good thing Claudia Jean passed the glass of water over to Phoenix when she did. Her hands were shaking almost harder than his were.

The sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen nearly made her jump. What now? As much as she hated to release her arms from around Phia she did surrender the girl into the arms of her brother and Claudia Jean.

Quickened steps rushed her to where the landline hung in the kitchen. Muffy was on the other side of the island counter licking up the creamsicle colored frosting from where it splatted on the floor as it presumably left Phoenix had upon seeing his teary sister appearing in the doorway.

The thought crossed her mind to shoo the dog away and clean up the smashed sunset colors off her hardwood. But there was a bigger, more important mess to be dealt with first. There would be time to deal with the sugar induced illness that came from either side of the dog later on.

Her hand gripped the handset and lifted it off the hook
"Hello?"
The voice she was greeted with on the other end of the line was backed by sounds of beeping electronics and rushing humanity.
"Merri? It's Judy.”
Even before the woman on the other end of the line had stated her name she knew who it had been. There was only one member of book club who worked in the hospital.

She hung on every single word uttered through the handset. Her fingers gracing her lips as she listened to how the paramedics had brought Wes into the ER not long ago. Trying to remind herself that she was the adult in this situation while learning that he wasn’t breathing when they found him. Forcing herself to keep the phone to her ear while the call slowly came to an end without a definitive answer for his status at the moment. All that could be said for certain was that the doctors were still working on him.

Without something to tell the kids.

Merriweather managed to eke out a ‘thank you’ and return the phone to its hook. As a girl growing up in the south, she had learned well the importance of keeping it together in a crisis. If she couldn't do anything else to help her nephew in this moment. That was the very least she could manage. Holding herself together at the edges until there was really something for sure to panic over.

She returned to the living room, passing by the kids to grab her keys and coat from the hook by the door
“Let’s go to the hospital.”
She said as coolly as she could manage.
container
designed by thatonegirl28 coded by stardust galaxy
 
  • .
code by opaline
Baz Jarson
Eve of Destruction

She looked stunning—of course she did. Hair in soft waves down her shoulders. Cream jumper—big and soft—nearly covering the (frankly illegal) black miniskirt below it. Her legs were wrapped in opaque tights and knee-high boots, and she sauntered over like she didn’t know what she was doing to his head.

She did. She absolutely did.

“Hi,” she said smoothly as she closed the space between them.

Parker drew in close, pressing a kiss to his cheek that burned straight through his skin. Then she wrapped him in a quick hug, arms warm around his neck. His hands stalled for half a second—then moved to her back, holding on like he could keep her there if he just tried hard enough.

She smelled good—floral, maybe jasmine but gentler, with something warm and sweet beneath it. Vanilla, maybe. It hit him like a punch and a lullaby in one.

He didn’t want her to let go.

But she did. Of course she did. And Baz crash-landed back to earth hard.

“You and that lame-o Ford ready to go?” she teased.

Baz blinked. “Yeah,” he said, a little shell-shocked. Then he recovered fast, slinging on his lopsided grin like armour. “Oi, careful—she’ll hear you talking shit and throw a fit.”

He jogged to the passenger side, swung the door open for her with a mock flourish. “Come on, before I change my mind and make you walk in those boots,” he added with a cheeky grin.

Once she was in, he rounded the bonnet and hopped behind the wheel. His hand settled on the gearstick again, but his eyes drifted over to her. She looked excited. Like she was ready to own the night.

Baz couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted with nerves.

It was just a party. Drink. Dance. Talk shit. Not rocket science.

And hopefully, if he could keep his shit together long enough, give Parker a good evening—a midnight kiss.

Baz started the car, and it roared to life obediently. His mind wandered as he drove, leaving him uncharacteristically quiet. Thoughts swirled his head in dizzying waves—spiralling from stress about his future, his joblessness, to Wes, and their loaded conversations as of late, and of course, to the girl sitting shotgun.

He peered at her, searching her face.

“You had a good Chrissy, Parks?” he asked, soft.

He knew how bummed she was about her own sad excuse for a family and their lack of effort to connect with her. His mum had been great about it—giving Parker her own set of Christmas PJs, her own stocking on the fireplace, her place at the dining table.

“Reckon mum was more excited to see you Chrissy morning than her own son” he said it like a joke but he gave her a warm smile and a little wink. “Can’t blame her really” He shrugged

Baz had clocked the look on her face—surprised. Almost like she didn’t know what to do with being wanted.

That look never quite left her every time that hodgepodge family of his included her in anything.

if Baz related to anything, it was mourning a parental love he’d never really had. Even today, he still sometimes wondered if he might actually have a father if he just went home.

That thought made him internally cringe so he quickly continued to run his mouth.

“How good was my bonfire?” He asked forcefully loosening his hand curled around the wheel when he realised he’d been squeezing it. “You drunk Seth under the table, even if he’s denying it, yeah? Not me though.” He chuckled but his eyes were unfocused—drifting—like he wasn’t really present, just talking to fill the space

He swallowed hard and looked back at the road. One hand drummed anxiously against the gearstick. The other stayed tight on the wheel.

Silence settled between them again, but not the comfortable kind. It prickled under his skin. He knew he should say something—ask her what her New Year’s resolution was, make some dumb joke about tequila—but his throat suddenly felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.

The road ahead blurred slightly. He blinked. Tried to focus.

Then Red Dog gave a low, sick-sounding whine. A subtle rattle beneath the bonnet.

Baz’s stomach dropped.

He knew that sound. He knew it.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he muttered, tapping the dash like that might help. The temp gauge was climbing. Not fast, but steady. Too steady.

If Parker asked him what was wrong he’d mutter that he didn’t know yet but he had a sick feeling he did know. He eased off the accelerator.

The rattle grew louder.

And then—right as they crested a bend—steam hissed up from the bonnet.

“FUCK,” Baz barked, swerving them gently to the gravel shoulder. He slammed it into neutral and killed the engine before it cooked itself. If it hadn’t already.

Silence. Engine ticking softly. A wisp of steam curling past the windscreen like smoke.

“Go on then, gimme the ‘I told ya so’” he said with a humorless laugh “Fuckin lame-o ford for a lame-o bloke” he couldn’t look at her. It was meant to be funny but it just sounded bitter which made him feel ten times worse.

God he hated this self pitying bulshit yet here he fucking was. Feeling sorry for himself.

He dropped his head forward onto the wheel.

“Bloody typical aint it?” he muttered.

He didn’t lift his head. Just sat there, hunched over, jaw clenched tight. His heart was thudding too fast. His skin itched.

He wasn’t joking around anymore. Couldn’t. This was the last thing.

The last damn thing he had that worked.

But of course Red Dog had given up on him too.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, barely audible. “I thought I’d fixed it.”

It wasn’t just the ute.

It was everything.

He was tired of holding shit together with zip ties and dumb jokes. He was tired of pretending he was okay. Of pretending he knew what he was doing.

This was meant to be easy. Just a party. Just a kiss.

Instead, he was sweating on the side of the road like a loser in an overheating Ford, trying not to completely fall apart in front of the only girl who made him feel like maybe—maybe—he was worth something.

He let out a long, shaky breath. Still didn’t lift his head.

“I just wanted tonight to be good,” he said quietly.


.
 
Last edited:
Lacey Marie Kavanagh
the chill girl
Lacey regretted her last words; in reality, she knew that not talking or seeing Jonah ever again would be the worst thing in her life, and wasn’t even sure how she would be able to move on. Because how were you supposed to let go of someone that she loved more than anything? She didn’t have an answer to that, and hated the idea of having to find an answer to it.

But even if she was in pain, she couldn’t deny that Jonah was right, there was no way he could have planned that, and she knew he was telling the truth, as she could hear the pain behind those words, that he was hurting as much as she was at that moment, and the only thing she wanted was to go back in time, when they were just in their little world, thinking they would be together no matter what.

But when he said that, the show must go on, even after their downfall, he was still trying to encourage her in his way, that even if they weren’t together, she still had another dream, one that Jonah was still trying to encourage her to continue instead of giving up, because at that moment the only thing she wanted was to leave the party and be at her house, crying her heart out under her blankets. But knew that she couldn’t, not when she had people waiting for her inside, and not when she worked so hard for this moment.

So, without saying anything, she turned back and went inside. The first thing Lacey did was to go to the bathroom to clean her face from the remaining tears that were still on it. In that moment, she thanked the invention of waterproof makeup otherwise she knew she would be looking like a mess, more than she did, because even with all the makeup on the world, she couldn’t hide the puffiness and redness of her eyes or how she look visibly devastated, after finding out that the boy she loved would no longer be by her side.

But even if she was heartbroken, she found the strength to come out to where Mickey and Seth were as they were finishing setting up everything.
“Sorry for disappearing. What is missing to get done?”
She said, trying to ignore the fact that they would notice something was wrong with her.

“Where’s Fletcher? Any signs of him? You know what, whatever, if he doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, we are doing this without him. I don’t fucking care if he is later throwing a tantrum about how we performed without him; he can take those pre-drinks and shove them wherever he feels like it, not in the mood to be fucking dealing with a man-child.”
She said, her tone one of anger, which only emphasized her state. After all, Lacey never swore unless she was about to lose it.

“Seth, are you seriously smoking a joint right now? Couldn’t you have waited until, I don’t know, we were done playing? Okay, sorry about that, I am not doing great, and I just want to get this over with.”

mood: angry
outfit: here
location: party
interactions: thatonegirl28 thatonegirl28 EnviousWorm EnviousWorm
Gracie Abrams - I should hate you

coded by Stardust Galaxy
 
elliot slater

ice ice baby
E
lliot was barely home these days, but tonight he made a rare guest appearance.
His father didn’t even notice—he walked straight past him—and his mother had that distant, heavy silence that meant she was upset. It felt like he wasn’t even part of this family anymore.

Ever since the news broke and the snowstorm passed, he’d been crashing anywhere but home. But avoiding it all—his house, the whispers, the truth—was getting harder.
The secret wasn’t a secret anymore.

He knew there’d be consequences. At least, it felt like there should be.
Like a shadow was chasing him, one he kept trying to outrun, but it was catching up. Slowly, steadily.

He hadn’t been to school in a week.
Still too scared to go back.
His old friends were out of reach now, so he drifted into an older crowd. People who didn’t ask questions. People who didn’t know him.
And what they were doing? Yeah, it was shady. But Elliot didn’t care.
For once, not being known felt safer.

Tonight, though, he wasn’t with them.
But he was doing the same thing he always did: forgetting.

It was New Year’s Eve.
For most people, a fresh start. A clean slate.
And somewhere inside, Elliot still hoped maybe—just maybe—it could be the same for him.

He had promised Mei he’d show up.
But ever since that moment with Ash, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. That determined blonde had come crashing back into his life, and nothing felt the same.
There was no Dallas standing in his way anymore. That bridge was burned.
Two best friends lost in a year.

And then there was Mei.
Maybe that’s what he was really afraid of—facing her.
Because she knew.
She knew what was going on. And that guilt, the one he’d tried so hard to avoid, had tangled itself into the one girl he actually liked.

It was complicated. So he did the only thing he knew how to do:
Make sure he was absolutely wrecked before ever showing up.

He got the address.
What he hadn’t expected was a mansion.

Not just big. Ridiculous.
Even the garage had its own garage.

Elliot had grown up with money—but not this kind of money.

The gate was open.
The driveway packed with cars.
Not that it mattered. The place had room for everything, a yacht could fit into that driveway.

The party was definitely on. A live band. Way too much alcohol. And portraits of some random girl hanging on every single wall like she owned the place.

Elliot had mostly spent his time hiding in the bathroom, doing god-knows-what to get through the night, until he finally decided he needed a drink.

There was a slim chance of running into anyone he knew. But of course, right as he made it toward the kitchen, he ran into Ash.

‘Hey, Ash.’
Not awkward. But definitely tense. They could’ve kissed. Maybe should’ve.
He wasn’t even sure what was going on between her and Dallas now. Last he checked, she wasn’t even allowed to talk to him.

But alcohol made everything easier.
They were already a few drinks in—mostly shots.
And the combination with the oxy he’d been bumping all night made it feel almost. . . good.

For the first time in months, he actually felt kind of okay.
They were laughing. Talking. Like real people.

It felt dangerous. Like doing something illegal.
Why did it feel so good?

So good, he almost forgot Mei was at this party too.
Until the moment he and Ash headed back for a refill—and there she was.

Mei.
Standing by the drink table.
Looking right at them.

The girl he’d invited.
The one he promised he’d show up for.

His heart sank, but his buzz didn’t.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Right?

It wasn’t like she didn’t know he’d had a rough week.
He’d just hoped she’d understand. Maybe even let him have a little fun.
Was that really too much to ask?

He forced a dumb little smile, but he knew Mei well enough.
She’d see right through that shit.

‘Yo, Mei. I figured you’d be here,’ he said, trying to keep it light. Like this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen.
She wasn’t much of a drinker, which made this even worse.

‘Me and Ash were actually gonna play some beer pong—if you wanna join?’

Casual. Too casual. Like that would erase whatever she’d just walked in on.

Nothing to lose, he reminded himself. Nothing to lose.











outfit:
location:
the nye party

 
code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

Nix blinked. The touch caught him off guard—gentle fingers moving through his hair, smoothing it back like he was a kid again. Like he wasn’t standing there on the edge, heart thudding, thoughts spinning.

It wasn’t patronizing. It wasn’t pitying.
It was just… kind. Mothering.
And for a second, it almost broke him.

His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t lean into it, but he didn’t pull away either. He just stood there, frozen, like his body didn’t quite know how to receive that kind of tenderness anymore.

Merri met his eyes.
And for the briefest moment, it wasn’t Merri standing there—it was his mom. The way she used to touch his hair when he was sick, or scared, or just too quiet for too long. The way she used to look at him, like she already knew.

“You’re doing everything you can.”

His eyes burned again. God, not now. Not when he was trying so hard to be strong.

But the touch undid something. Just a little.

Nix blinked hard, trying to stop the urge to break apart like wet paper. He didn’t say anything to Merriweather. He couldn’t.
Then the phone rang. The sound cut through the stillness—sharp and jarring. The spell broke, and Nix was able to move again. He guided his sister gently into the living room and sat with her while she sipped her water, sobbing subsiding to numb, silent tears and shaky breaths.

Merri returned a minute later, her face tight with something unreadable. She spoke to them both, her voice low but clear.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” she said, already moving to grab the keys off the hook.

Nix stood and helped his sister to her feet too. He’d recovered somewhat, but the looming thought of entering the hospital sat on his chest like a stone.

“I’ll move my car.”

His voice came out hoarse, thinner than he meant it to. It was getting harder to think clearly. He didn’t wait for a reply—just grabbed his keys off the counter and stepped outside into the cool afternoon air.

The second the door shut behind him, it all hit harder.

Wes was alive.
But he was in the hospital. Because of an overdose. Because something went wrong. Because he called for help, and—

God.
Carmen didn’t know.

The thought hit like a punch. Nix froze halfway to his car. His fingers clenched around the keys.

Wes’s girlfriend didn’t know.

She was probably still at the party. Still drinking. Still waiting. Wondering if she’d been abandoned.
Again.

And Nix—he’d known. For how long now? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
Too long.

His stomach turned as he unlocked his door and slid into the driver’s seat. His hands were shaking again, worse now, because the stillness was gone and reality was screaming back in.

He turned the key. The engine rumbled to life.

He had to tell her.
He had to do something.
He couldn’t just sit there and let her find out after from someone she didn't know. From somewhere along the grapevine, carried by town gossip.

Nix backed down the driveway and paused at the curb.
And when he got out, he’d made his decision.

It felt wrong.
Like abandoning his sister in a time of need.

But she was safe. She had an adult. Someone steady.
Far steadier than the teenage alcoholic trying to hold it together long enough to survive this crisis.

And if he was honest with himself—
God.
He didn’t want to do it alone. He didn’t want to go through those double doors, wait in the sterile waiting room for the news, trying to hold it together for his sister.
Not alone.
Not again.

Nix got out of the car and took a few quick strides toward the driveway just as the Taylor's garage roller door opened. Phia was already in the back seat, clearly expecting him to climb in too, window rolled down. Nix didn't open the door.

He swallowed hard and forced out the words he knew might hurt her.

“I’m going to follow behind you guys,” he said as gently as he could. “There’s someone I have to tell. Wes’s girlfriend—Carmen. She… she deserves to be there too.”

He looked at Merri and Phia in turn, as if begging them to understand.
“I’ll be right after you. I promise. I love you. S-stick with Merri for a bit, okay?”

He knew her answer would hurt. Confusion. Pain. Betrayal.

It was going to stick with him.

He couldn’t stand still. He couldn’t let it overcome his resolve.

He looked at Merri–eyes wide with fear. His sister was scared but safe. Carmen was vulnerable. Alone.

He gave Merri a small nod.
“Thank you…” he said quietly, then stepped backward away from the car like he was backing away from a threat.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he headed back to his still-running car and got behind the wheel. He didn’t wait for them to leave—he was worried he might second-guess this awful decision.

Nix barely remembered the drive. It felt surreal. Like he wasn’t the one in control. Like he was just a passenger in his own life. It passed by in scattered flashes—the sharp turn onto Dutch Street, the blur of houses lit with fairy lights, the pounding in his ears louder than the engine.

By the time he pulled up to the curb, he was running on instinct.

He killed the ignition and slammed the door behind him, barely noticing how loud it was. The party was still going strong—music thumping, voices rising. Somewhere in that mess, Carmen was still laughing. Drinking.

Nix gritted his teeth.

He pictured her with a drink in hand, laughing too loud, checking her phone for messages that weren't coming. Completely unaware the ground had already opened up beneath her feet.

Because she didn’t know.
Not yet.
And it was going to be him who told her.

He moved quickly, shouldering past groups on the front lawn, scanning faces. His hands were fists at his sides—not from anger, just to stop them shaking.

He couldn’t think about how this would land. Not yet.
He just had to find her.

.
 








































Carmen Tate
















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Lost



















































































Carmen Tate's evening hadn't exactly gone to plan. The plan, of course, being to watch a little live music played by her 'Sister’s' band with Baz and Parker and then sneak off somewhere for a quiet moment with Wes to happily ring in the new year and ideally– get her first New Year's Eve kiss.

The first shot was innocent– Just one while she waited to take off the edge of being alone in a crowd of teens already finding themselves at varying levels of intoxication.

The second and third shots were done in much quicker succession. An attempt to dull the paranoia leaking through the cracks in the wall of ‘positivity’ she hid behind.

Four, five...She stopped counting. Stopped checking her phone too- I mean why bother when no one was texting.

Why was no one texting?

Carmen wasn't sure but what she did know was that she'd had enough shots now the cold air didn’t feel so cold anymore as she stepped outside the house party. Her feet, however, were far less steady than the last time she’d braved it.

Thank God she’d worn clogs instead of heels—she was clumsy enough sober, and now, well, Carmen was definitely not sober.

She didn’t bother checking her phone again, couldn't take the pain of it– No one was coming.

Wes wasn’t coming.

Alcohol had washed away any paranoia replacing it with something much more acidic- self loathing.

Of course Wes wasn't coming.

Why would he?

Everyone left her in the end. She had to operate on the assumption that everything she thought about him was wrong.

Wes had turned out to be just another pretty boy with even prettier words.

Promises of sticking around, that she was important. At least to him...

The brunette chuckled darkly to herself, Luci would get the chance to penn her ‘I told you so’ after all. Just maybe not quite in the way or for the reason she'd planned it.

Carmen stuck a cigarette between her lips letting it hang loosely as she fumbled with her lighter. When it slipped from her hand and clattered onto the cement driveway, she let out a frustrated,

“Fuck!”


She snapped the cigarette in half and tossed it aside. A simple hit of nicotine failing to seem worth a second attempt.

The dejected teen leaned her back against the garage door, sliding down until she was sitting on the chilled ground.

Without the party’s distracting buzz to buoy her mood, everything started spiraling—fast.
Maybe that’s why, when she spotted Nix approaching the house with a determined look, she couldn’t help herself.

“Phoenix Price!”
she called, voice laced with bitter amusement.

Using the door for support, she pushed herself to her feet again, wobbling slightly.

“Turns out he’s not dead everyone— just an insensitive asshole.”


Her dark eyes squinted at him.
“Let me guess, looking for Frannie? Well I was just in there and she’s not here. So why don't you just—”


Carmen attempted to wave him off with a sloppy flick of her manicured hand.
“Go.”
Desperate to turn inward- to push everyone away.

Especially the eldest Price.




















♡coded by uxie♡
 
code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

Nix’s face was set in a mask of tension. Every minute he spent searching was another his sister spent waiting for him.

What if Wes didn’t make it—and he wasn’t even fucking there?

His jaw clenched so hard it was painful. His eyes darted frantically for any sign of her.

Carmen.

The best friend he could’ve had—if he didn’t ruin everything he touched. If he wasn’t poison.

There was nothing stopping him from seeing her—not anymore. Hadn’t been for months. But that didn’t mean he deserved to.

Especially not now.

Not when his life had become a sick dance between wanting to live and drinking to die.

He’d been pretty sure, during some of his most spectacular downswings, that he might just lose the will to survive at all.

He’d already put her through enough. And the idea of being there for her again, only to suddenly vanish?

Unforgivable.

But fate didn’t care what he wanted.

Because Wes had finally hit his rock bottom. And Nix couldn’t let Carmen find out through whispers in the hallway or a phone call from someone who didn’t know him.

It had to come from someone she knew.

Even if that someone had to be him.

So Nix did what he always did—shoved down the panic, the grief, the guilt, the pain. And he acted.

He had practice at that, after all.

But his body wasn’t cooperating. His heart was pounding too fast, skin clammy despite the cold. There was a tremor in his hands again—a fine, telltale shake he tried to hide in his sleeves.

It had been hours since his last drink.

Long enough for the familiar itch to set in.

Not now, he thought. Not in front of her.

He found her slumped against a garage door.

She saw him.
He saw her.

And in that terrible, suspended moment, their eyes locked.

“Phoenix Price!”

Her voice cracked like a whip—sharp and bitter. Carmen shoved herself upright, fury crackling in every line of her body.

Nix swallowed hard, pushing the lump in his throat down, and approached tentatively—like someone trying not to spook an injured animal.

“Turns out he’s not dead everyone—just another insensitive asshole,” she called, loud and theatrical, like she had an audience.

He deserved that.
Deserved far worse.

“Looking for Frannie?” Her words dripped acid. “Well, I was just in there and she’s not here. So why don’t you just—” she flicked her wrist dismissively, “go.”

“Carmen, I’m not looking for Frannie. I’m looking for you,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could choke on them.

“It’s Wes,” Nix managed. “I don’t know how he is right now—only that he was taken to hospital.”

He tried to stay factual, to be clear. But panic clawed at the edge of his voice, cracking it at the seams.

“It sounds like he overdosed, Carmen. We need to go.”

He drew in a breath.

“I can take you.”

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TW: Mention of overdose, drugs

“Carmen, I’m not looking for Frannie. I’m looking for you.”

The brunette, looking more like a toddler than a nineteen-year-old, shook her head preemptively—already protesting whatever he was about to say.

But nothing could’ve prepared her for what came next.

“It’s Wes.”

His name cut deep, sharper than it ever had before, momentarily distracting her from her anger. She rubbed her arm, trying to soothe the sudden vulnerability that washed over her at the mere mention of the boyfriend she’d spent the better part of the night trying to forget.

And then Nix kept talking.

“I don’t know how he is right now—only that he was taken to hospital.”

Her stomach twisted, flipping and knotting itself like a pretzel.

“What do you mean, the hospital? You know it’s really fucked up to joke about something like that–”


But she could tell he wasn’t joking. The panic fraying the edges of his voice made that clear.

“It sounds like he overdosed, Carmen. We need to go.”

Overdosed?

A million thoughts crashed through her mind. How? Wes was always so careful. He’d told her he had it under control.

Was it an accident?

Or worse—on purpose?

Finally acting on all those offhanded comments about not having a future?

Guilt hit her hard, sinking its teeth in.

Wes had been out there—suffering—and she’d been wallowing in self-pity.

What if she’d been the one to get that call?

What would she have done, half stoned and drunk off her ass?

Maybe he was right not to call her.

But if it wasn’t Carmen, then who had he called?

Nix’s sharp inhale pulled her gaze from the cracked concrete of the driveway. Then came the offer:
“I can take you.”


She opened her mouth to argue but shut it quickly, slapping her hand over it as her stomach churned. A few seconds later she turned away, thankful she’d had the foresight to tie her hair up earlier, and vomited bile into the grass—perks of binge drinking on an empty stomach.

Carmen stumbled back to her feet, trying to regain some semblance of composure; smoothed her hair, tucked her necklace back into her shirt, before finally meeting Nix’s gaze.

Fucking embarrassing.

“I’m really fine, you know. I don’t need help getting there—especially not from you. You’d probably just leave me stranded anyway.”


She didn’t want to think about Wes. About what this all might mean.

But being mad at Nix?

That she could handle.

That didn’t make her feel like the ground was falling out from under her.









♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

He watched Carmen flick through emotions. Indignance, then shock. Pain. Guilt. Panic.

She moved like she was going to speak, but her hand shot up over her mouth.

Nix knew what was happening before it happened.

She swayed once, then lurched toward the grass and violently threw up bile.

“Oh shit…”

He took a half-step toward her—instinct, really—but didn’t reach out. His hands stayed at his sides. Clenched once. Released. Clenched again harder.

Carmen wouldn’t want him touching her right now. And he’d learned to read the warning signs.

Even if his whole chest ached to steady her.

Nix opened his mouth to say something. Ask if she was okay. Anything.

But then something metal caught his eye.

At her neck, her hands moved to tuck a necklace back into her shirt where it had been hidden.

But she wasn’t fast enough. Nix had seen it.

The necklace.

His necklace.

He blinked.

No fucking way.

For a second, the breath went out of him. It was like someone had opened a window inside his chest and let the cold rush in.

Why?

Why would she still wear it?

For a fleeting, selfish moment, that was all he could think about.

It was only her biting words that dragged him back into the present.

“I’m really fine, you know. I don’t need help getting there—especially not from you. You’d probably just leave me stranded anyway.”

That one hurt.
He didn’t flinch, but he felt it.

I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t.
It’s not like that.
It wasn’t like that.

But he didn’t say any of that.

He swallowed the weak defence like glass and stayed focused.

She was hurting—and he could take a hit.

“Come on.”
He said it gently. Soft.

“I have water in my car. I won’t be leaving you stranded.”

His voice was frank, but urgent. He was running out of time. Phia was alone. Wes could be…

Stop. Keep talking.

“You have every right to be angry at me, Carmen. Every right. But right now, I can help you.”

He couldn’t help it—he stole another glance at the necklace. But it was safely tucked away now. Hidden. Like he’d imagined it.

But he hadn’t, had he?

Focus.

His car was only parked on the street across the road.

He moved to head toward it, checking over his shoulder to make sure she was going to follow him before going ahead.

“If you need to steady yourself, hold onto me…” he muttered softly, looking at her but averting his eyes. He couldn’t meet hers. He might break down if he did.

Wes needed them both.

He’d been there for Nix in a way his own brother hadn’t for so long.

Nix couldn’t abandon him now.
.
 
container
Merriweather
mood
worried
outfit
location
the taylor residence >>> the hospital
interactions
tw: drugs/fallout of a drug overdose, mention of medical situations, uncertainty over the medical status of a loved one, high stress events, death, religion/prayer, and people generally having a rough night

There goes Phoenix, trying to hold the entire world together in his arms and picking up the burden of becoming a messenger. The face that Carmen would have burned into her mind for the rest of her life. Every detail of his tired expression etched into her very soul as the person who broke the news that would define the worst night of her life. Merriweather knew there was no stopping him, and she didn’t think she should try anyhow.

He was right.

Someone had to tell her.

She had seen their relationship in glimpses. Pieces put together from what she had heard from Claudia Jean or others who had seen them around town. Even once or twice across the front lawn when Carmen was picking him up for a date night or a picture from social media. Such a pretty young girl about to have her entire world flipped upside down just like it had been for herself and the two wounded birds she had at her sides.

“It’s okay, I’ve got her.”
Merriweather nodded, placing a hand on Phia’s upper back as she guided the small girl into the backseat of her car
“Go on ahead, we’ll meet you there.”
Her eyes locked on the younger man’s, giving him permission to do what he had to. Not that he needed it, but if he wanted her blessing. He could have it.

Once the two teenage girls were seated in the car and the engine roared to life there was no hesitation to her urgency. Always the obedient driver, but maybe tonight she could accept a few miles over the speed limit. She’d tell any cop who dare stop her that they could shove their tickets or citations right up their ass.

Her nephew was dying for God’s sake.

No, no. It’s too soon to come to that conclusion yet. Right, it was possible that he was already dead… How long can you go without breathing before… before…

The edge of her car tire clipped the curb of the hospital’s parking lot’s sidewalk. So busy drowning in her own ‘what-ifs’ that the drive had whizzed by in a blur. She really was an obedient driver.

Her eyes glanced up at the large EMERGENCY sign that cast a glow of red into the night sky. The sheer scale of the letters dwarfed her easily, reminding her all that much more how powerless she was in this whole evening. In her own life.

It never was her choice to relocate away from Georgia… She didn’t think she could’ve changed things. If she had, would she have put up more of a fight?...

There was time for introspection in her own life later. Not when her nephew’s was hanging in the balance. Hands gripping the steering wheel as the girls began to get themselves freed from their seatbelts Merriweather’s lips moved in a familiar pattern with a few never before heard additions.

“Dear Lord, please look over us and guide us through these harrowing times.”
The familiar motion tasted comfortable as he tongue wrapped around it and uttered the sentence in a soft voice.
“Protect these girls from this pain and suffering and please don’t take Weston just yet. Return him to us…. Save him from himself…”
Her manicured nails unclicked her seatbelt’s latch with an audible clink as she concluded her prayer with the standard
“Amen.”


The three of them rushed through the doors of the emergency bay. A smattering of other patients in view. Kids who had drank too much, people who had blown off their fingers with fireworks, whatever pitfalls that the holiday typically brought.

No sign of Wes.

Merriweather parked the girls in a set of chairs in the waiting room, it seemed like the best option
“You two wait here.”
She squeezed each of their hands, not wanting to part from either of their sides but not seeing another choice. If there was more bad news to be delivered, she didn’t want them to hear it from some clinician. She wanted it to be from her.

“I’m gonna go get us some answers and be right back.”
A strand from each girl’s hair tucked behind their respective ears. Maybe her daughter wasn’t nearly as close to Phia as her nephew was, but she was still kind, still a warm body for the Price girl to lean on for the few minutes she was gone.

Her usually even stride stomped across the lobby to the information desk
“Excuse me, I need to know the status of Greene, with an ‘e,’ comma Weston. That’s W-E-S-T-O-N.”
Forcing her voice not to shake she laid her hands on the countertop
“I was informed he was brought here about a half an hour ago. I need to know how he’s doing. Before you ask, I am his aunt. Yes, I can prove it if I have to. He has a plate in his left wrist and two scars on the same arm. If that’s not enough I’ve got more than fifteen years of photos sitting in my phone’s cloud storage to show you if you don’t believe me.”
She was beyond rambling now, she was full on ranting and raving. If she kept talking they couldn’t answer her, and if they couldn’t answer her then they couldn’t give her bad news. She could protect her family a little bit longer. Give Phoenix a little bit more time to shatter Carmen’s world.
“He’s not on speaking terms with his family right now, so I’m all he’s got. Me and two girls over in the waiting room. Don’t even try it with your legal nonsense about what you can and can’t tell me, and don’t make me and those girls wait longer than you absolutely have to.”
There it was. She was out of words to fill the space between the moment now and the moment that would come soon after.

The moment of truth.

“Why don’t you come with me for a bit.”
The nurse behind the desk said rising to his feet and gesturing for her to follow him.
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’Come on.’

’I have water in my car. I’m won't be leaving you stranded.’

’You have every right to be angry, Carmen. Every right. But right now, I can help you.’

Nix spoke softly, saying all the right things—at least enough to get past this first hurdle.

Even in her intoxicated state, Carmen knew he was right. Checking on Wes was the priority.

Getting to Wes was the priority.

Because until she had his curls in her fingers or his heartbeat in her ear, she wouldn’t be able to relax.

The tension was tightening in her body, wrenching up every muscle, every ligament, twisting her like a wind-up toy with each step toward the old Suburban.

’If you need to steady yourself, hold onto me…’

She refused at first, silently, stubbornly—as was the pattern this evening. But with each step, the walk felt longer, her body stiffer, until finally she reached for the faded black leather bomber jacket swaying in front of her.

He opened the passenger door and she climbed in. Would’ve been a simple task in the daylight, with a clear head. But now it felt like a small mountain. She could practically feel Nix’s desire to step in, radiating from his pores from behind.

“I got it.”
And after about a minute of struggling, she did.

Nix shut the door. As he circled around to the driver’s side, her eyes scanned what she suddenly realized had once been the Prices' home.

All four of them.

And for a moment—Carmen softened.

She remembered his struggles. (Of which there were many.)

Maybe even more than she'd realized.

Her gaze landed on the cup holder—full of bottle caps.

Alcohol.

The kind of thing someone might forget to clear out in a ten-second tidy-up.

Something Nix had.

She picked up a few, idly dropping them back in, one by one, just as he slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

“Didn’t know you were drinking like that...Especially considering—you know...”


The edge in her voice was sharp, made harsher by the alcohol, the stress—whatever it was, Carmen couldn’t stop it.

“When’d that start?”


















♡coded by uxie♡
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code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

Carmen started moving, silently accepting the help as necessary. They trudged to the car. She was unsteady but made it almost halfway, refusing to use him to steady her steps. Her whole body was coiled tightly, like a spring ready to snap.

She moved clunky, heavy-footed—eventually forced to grab him—and even then, she only took hold of his jacket.

Nix huffed a quiet sigh at the tug but kept his mouth shut.

He watched, somewhat helpless, as she tried to clamber into his car. It was painful. Like watching a kid try to blow out birthday candles but just spit all over the cake instead.

But he didn’t blame her.
He wouldn’t want his help either.

Finally, she made it in, and he rounded the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat. Nix sat, exhaled, and fished in his pocket for his keys. His fingers found them and slotted them into the ignition.

He twisted around in the seat, reaching into the back for a bottle of water. Just as he turned back, bottle in hand—

Clink.
Clink.
Clink.

His eyes snapped to the sound of metal hitting metal. Carmen had picked up the bottle caps from the cupholder—remnants from nights he didn’t remember—and dropped them back, one by one.

Shame burned through him like fire. Hot. Sickening.

Especially because it was her.

When she spoke, her words were sharp. Accusatory.

“Didn’t know you were drinking like that… especially considering—you know.”

Nix swallowed hard.
Hearing that out loud felt devastating—but it wasn’t unfair, was it?

He hadn’t had a drink since he’d started on that cake. He’d done the math—knew it’d be out of his system before he got behind the wheel.

But that didn’t mean anything. Not when she looked at him like that.

He should be home right now. Should be topping himself up—just enough. Just enough to survive.

But here he was. Already sweaty. Already restless.

He wanted to stop.
He was cutting back.
But he knew exactly how this looked.

“When’d that start?”

He shook his head and set the water bottle down in the other cupholder—the one without the evidence.

His shoulders slumped slightly, but his voice stayed steady.

“It started after college…” he muttered. “But it didn’t feel like a real problem until after…”

His breath hitched.

“Uh… not long after we… after Fran…”

He stopped himself.
Couldn’t say it. Not without breaking down.

Fuck.

He hated how much it still hurt. How his chest still ached for Frannie.

Even now.

Pathetic.

He didn’t want Carmen’s pity. Didn’t want to make this about him. Didn’t want to complicate things again.

He didn’t deserve to fix it.
If she hated him, maybe that was better.

But Nix was done lying. To anyone.

He’d learned what that did to people. To Frannie. To himself.

He knew what Carmen was thinking—what she was afraid of.

“I haven’t had anything for hours… I knew I’d be driving today.” His voice was rough.

It was all true, but it still sounded like a weak defence.

He always tried like this but could Nix really say he’d never had alcohol in his system when he’d been behind the wheel?

Probably not.

He wasn’t sure she’d believe him, but he followed it up—almost impulsively—with:

“I want to stop.”

He didn’t expect her to believe that either.
Hell, some days he didn’t believe it himself.
But saying it out loud?
It was something. A start.

He turned the key, and the car kicked into life.

They pulled away from the curb.
It was a small town, but there was still time to endure in the silence.

Nix’s grip tightened on the wheel.

The radio clicked on automatically, too soft to drown out the loud rattle of the engine. The car had needed a major service for a while now. It was honestly a miracle it was still running. A testament to build quality—or stubbornness. Nix wasn’t sure which.

He stared straight ahead at the road. So many things burned on his tongue like the end of a cigarette.

I’m sorry.

It felt real—but too small now. Like an insult.

He didn’t deserve forgiveness. But he could get her there safely. That was something.

The only thing he could still do for Wes.

He should have done so much more. He thought he was doing what was right—meeting Wes where he was, like Wes had done for him. Letting him know he wasn’t alone. Nix was there with him. Giving him permission to be in pain.

But maybe all he’d done was make it easier for him to drown.

For both of them to drown.

And when he’d finally said it—that if Wes wanted to stop, Nix would walk that road with him—

Well, it seemed too little too late.

Nix’s eyes itched. His hands shook slightly, so he gripped the wheel harder.

His eyes flicked down—just for a second.

She still had it on…

The little welded bead necklace he made her. Frayed string, color faded now.

Pressure built, and then it came out all in a rush.

“Didn’t think you’d still be wearing that.”

He didn’t look at her. Just let the words hang—caught somewhere between guilt and something like gratitude
.
 
Sophia Price
the sad girl
Being in Merriweather’s embrace almost made the distressed girl feel secure, that perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel, because mothers were supposed to make you feel that way, at least that’s how she felt when her mother was still alive, but not even the warmest hug from her could make Phia feel even the slightest less scared, because the only thing on her mind was Wes, and how much she needed to know that he was okay, that they would be okay.

But when the phone rang, it sent a shiver down on Phia’s body, the reminder of her phone ringing with Wes call, just made her relieve the scene over and over again in the back of her mind and the only thing she wanted was to make it stop, to throw away that phone so she would never had to hear it again. Still, Phia didn’t have the strength anymore; she just felt as if she went back into autopilot, the same way she felt after her parents died, just existing because something or someone still wanted to, but with no meaning in her life.

Phia felt how Merriweather let go of her motherly embrace, and was changed with Nix voice, guiding her to the couch as she drank the glass of water with one hand and with the other one, she held onto Nix’s hand, fingers intertwined in a desperate desire to not feel alone, and that action reminded her when they were younger, when she would hold his hand when they were kids when they were about to cross the street, because she wanted to get an ice cream and he was taking her, back in the time when everything was easier, when she didn’t have emotional burdens on her shoulders, back in the time when she was fully happy.

The girl didn’t know how long the call took; to her, it felt like hours, but ever since Wes called her, it felt as if time slowed down and as if everything was taking more than it should. When Merri came back and announced they had to go to the hospital, Phia felt her stomach sink. Just because he was at the hospital didn’t mean they were good news, even if her heart desired some kind of miracle, but Phia knew from firsthand experience that life was never fair.

At least at that moment, she had her brother, but then she didn’t, as he said he was going to follow them behind as he had to tell Wes’ girlfriend about it, and Phia couldn’t understand why her brother would decide to leave her when she needed him the most, to go and find a stranger. Someone who, by that time, would either be drunk, high on whatever stuff Wes taught her, or most likely both. Why did he have to go and find someone who would only be a burden at that moment? It was the stupidest idea someone could have, and yet Nix seemed too firm on it, which only made Phia hate every moment of it.

As Merri drove them to the hospital, Phia wondered how she ended up in this situation. She was supposed to be celebrating her birthday, seeing Mickey perform, taking pictures with Mei, and finally having some happiness for once. Instead, she was on her way to the hospital to see if her best friend was still alive, while her brother was somewhere else, and she felt completely alone.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Merri went to ask for information, leaving CJ and her in the waiting room. The silence felt too loud, almost making Phia want to scream, cry, or swear, because she couldn’t accept the idea that Wes was in this situation.
“How did this happen? He taught me how to skip rocks not too long ago; he even laughed at one of my stupid knock-knock jokes... He promised he would give me a birthday present... We were supposed to celebrate his birthday when the date came...”
she said, before breaking down into tears once again.
mood: stressed
outfit: here
location: hospital
interactions: thatonegirl28 thatonegirl28 matchaa matchaa
run - snow patrol

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’It started after college...but it didn't feel like a real problem until after.’

Nix had always spoken plainly, without the layers of obfuscation she was used to.

Carmen had asked a question, and now he was just... answering.

If they’d been talking under any other circumstances, it might’ve felt like a breath of fresh air—his honesty, his
straightforwardness.

But still, something caught in his chest when he began to explain just when he’d gotten dependent on the bottle. Turned out even Phoenix Price had things he didn’t dare say.

Or maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to.

A pang of guilt struck her for prying. But still, she couldn’t help glancing at his face, trying to read his expression.

More questions raced through her mind.

Like, if Nix truly didn’t like her, why was he bothering? To answer her questions, to seek her out to deliver the news, hell even to (despite her childish protests) offer to take her to the hospital.

Was it really just loyalty to Wes?

Could it be...something else?

After all this time, was there still something between them? That unspoken connection she’d once felt—then dismissed—that Friday in the school parking lot when he hadn’t shown... had it taken root? Had she managed to occupy even a few of his thoughts, despite the distance?

Just like he’d occupied some of hers.

Nix inserted the key and the Suburban roared to life, briefly cutting through her racing thoughts—which, admittedly, was pretty easy this evening the gaggle of substances already fighting for control of the conductor’s seat.

But something else broke through the vibrations and the low, distorted acoustic rumble of the radio—a comment.

’Didn’t think you’d still be wearing that.’

So he’d seen it.

Carmen felt like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment, and she grabbed her long ponytail, pulling it in front of her face like a shield.

She mumbled something into her hair—although it was nothing decipherable—before reluctantly peeking out again, fingers nervously twisting through brunette strands as she tried to look as disinterested as possible.

“It’s a nice necklace, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. I mean...you made sure of that, right?”


She tried to hold her ground, to keep up the angry facade—but it was too late.

The dam had cracked.

Her dark eyes shimmered with tears. She couldn't keep holding it back- the question she really wanted to ask.

“Nix– Why’d you stop talking to me?"
With the verbalization the floodgates opened.
"And then you—you just—”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she desperately pushed through raw emotion.

“You circled around me! Ash, Luci, W—”
A breathy sob cut off her Cowboy’s name.

“Why did you do that? I told you about my
p-parents and you—you still—How could you?”





















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code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction


As soon as he said it, he knew he’d royally fucked up.
She shrunk into herself, hiding behind her hair like he was a predator.

“It’s a nice necklace, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. I mean… you made sure of that, right?”
It should’ve been sharp. Cutting. But there was no edge to it—just ache.

He glanced at her more than the road now.
She was crying.
Oh shit.

Before the guilt could even land, it turned into sobbing. Great, ugly, wracking sobs that hit him in the chest like hammer blows.

“Nix—why’d you stop talking to me?”
His eyes went wide. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

“And then you—you just—you circled around me! Ash, Luci, W—”
She cut herself off before saying his name.
“Why did you do that? I told you about my p-parents and you—you still—how could you?”

Nix gripped the wheel like it might hold him together. His knuckles ached. His chest ached worse.
He blinked. Once. Then again.
Something behind his eyes was building. Pressure. Heat.
It had been there for months—no, years.

He didn’t feel it start. It just… happened.
A single tear tracked down his cheek.
He didn’t move. Didn’t swat at it.
Just stared ahead like he could drive away from her. From this. From himself. From all the things that had happened to him and around him over the last couple of months.

“Fuck…”
The word came low. Fractured.

He dragged a sleeve across his face. Useless. Another tear followed. Then another.

“I’m sorry… God, I—Carmen, it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you, okay?”
He sounded desperate. Like he needed her to believe it more than he needed air.
“God… I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone… so… so kind. So good.”

She was sobbing, begging for answers, and it hit him.
He’d done to her what Dallas did to him.
Too scared to face her. Too convinced he was poison. That he’d only hurt her. That he didn’t deserve to come back.
So he made her believe he hated her.
He’d abandoned her.
Just like he’d been abandoned.

And that truth made him feel sick.
The fact that he still wished he had a drink right now made him sicker.

He forced himself to breathe—drawing in a shaky, shallow breath.
“You’re right… you deserve to know why…” he managed, voice small and cracking. He took a deeper breath, trying to steady it.

This was going to hurt.

“W-when I lied to Fran… and she found out… she…”
A sob broke through. He bit it down hard. He had to tell her. All of it.
“I got home and found her in a bad way. I laid awake all night. I sat there, thinking she was going to die. That it was my fault.”

The car was too quiet. He could still hear Carmen’s sobs behind her hair.

“She didn’t die,” he went on hoarsely. “But in the morning, she kicked me out. And I didn’t fight it. I just… let it happen. I was so deep in it by then. I didn’t go home for three days.”

A beat. A deep breath.
“Wes found me on the third.”

His voice was low. Hollow.
“I was so… isolated. And he was—you know—someone who understood.”

He blinked hard.
“Eventually… around homecoming… Fran and I worked it out. I couldn’t lose someone else, and I had promised her I wouldn’t talk to you. And I kept that promise because I thought it was safer… like if I stayed away, I couldn’t—fuck you up too.”

“But…” He shook his head, guilt clinging to every word.
“I should’ve told you. I didn’t.”

He sighed. Like he was trying to lift the weight of months off his chest.
“I never meant to circle around you like that… I was lonely. I was… scared.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t imagine how that would’ve felt.”

His shoulders slumped. His hands trembled. He made himself small.

“Frannie and I broke up. Sh—”

The light turned green and he put his foot down with a little too much right boot as he got up to speed again.

“She already didn’t trust me. Rightly so.”

He shook his head again, voice going hoarse.
“I wasn’t doing good. I thought it’d be selfish to run to you. I thought it would be wrong.”

His voice cracked again.
“And the longer it went on… the harder it got to reach out. The easier it got to convince myself I was doing the right thing…”

He finally looked at her.

“But I wasn’t. You told me about your parents. You trusted me. And I broke that.”

His voice steadied—not loud, but certain. He forced himself to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I hurt you… I don’t expect forgiveness…”

He trailed off with another shrug.
Waiting.
Wide open.

“But…I won’t disappear again.”
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TW: Mentions Overdose, Drugs, Medical Things

Carmen didn’t say anything. Pretended not to notice the tears breaking free from the wells of Nix’s dark eyes, running down his cheeks.

Her own were transfixed on him as he explained what had happened during the months they'd gone without contact.
About Frannie.

‘She was in a bad way,’ he said, voice low, almost breaking. ‘I laid awake all night. I didn’t know if she’d keep breathing.’

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Then she couldn’t stop hearing them. Over and over on an endless loop.

'Didn’t know if she’d keep breathing.'

Nix’s quiet truth cracked something else open.

Wes.

He’d been in a bad way too.

Had his skin gone pale? Lips turned blue?

Was his chest barely moving, breaths slow and shallow—like each one might be his last?

Her cowboy could he really have been alone somewhere, eyes half-lidded, body slack—slipping under.

Slipping away.

Twisted scenes flooded her already cloudy mind, all the worst-case scenarios she’d soaked up from every movie, every television show.

A dropped pill bottle, a used needle, a phone ringing too late.

Carmen clenched her eyes shut, hard, like she could squeeze the images out. But they were burned into her, seared into her mind's eye.

The only solace was the cold, hard fact that Wes hadn’t reached someone too late. He was at the hospital—he was going to be fine.

He had to be.

Her eyelids fluttered open, trying desperately to focus again on Nix’s gentle voice, his words—on the present.

‘I wasn’t doing good. I thought it’d be selfish to run to you. I thought it would be wrong.’

But maybe I could’ve helped. She wanted to say.

But that wasn’t true, was it?

Carmen couldn’t help anyone.

Something even Wes, in his most desperate hour, seemed to understand.

Her hands dropped to her sides, gripping the edge of the car seat, hoping to hide their trembling.

The two teenagers met each other’s gaze—maybe for the first time that night.

No more barriers.

No more walls.

Laid bare.

Just two kids trying to deal with things way beyond their maturity level.

Nix piped up once again. ‘I don’t expect forgiveness...but I won't disappear again.’

Carmen wiped her running nose on her sleeve before speaking.
“You want forgiveness? From me?”
An involuntary sniffle followed.

“I don’t think it’s really worth all that much, but if that’s all you need for us to be friends again then…"
She shrugged at him.
“It’s yours.”


The girl tried to smile, but her lips betrayed her, letting out a gasp instead.

“Frannie—she was okay though? I mean, after everything…Did she—could she...stop?”


She needed to hear a yes.

A success story.

That Fran had gotten clean.

That maybe they weren’t together anymore, but she was going to be alright.

Because maybe if Fran could, then Nix could... And Maybe just maybe...

Wes could too.






♡coded by uxie♡
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Eve of Destruction





tw: mentions of drugs/overdose, hospital/medical situations, death

Claudia Jean didn’t have an answer for Phia, because she had the very same question on her mind.

How did this happen?

Well, she had an idea. She had known that Wes wasn’t the same boy he used to be after his fall.

The accident, the surgeries, the pills.

It had changed him.

The year after it happened, the Greenes had come back out to Georgia for their great-grandmother’s eighty-fifth birthday. The look on his face was just… subdued. Not full of life and snark, eager to brag about his riding times or crack a joke at someone else’s expense. Usually hers or his brothers. He sat under a beach umbrella propped by a table with his headphones in his ears, frowning like it was his job.

She had known he would have to change after something like that, but she’d never expected it to be so drastic. For the hungry pit of destruction to swallow him up so quickly and thoroughly in the same starving way he took down his oxy. The thing that was supposed to be helping him get better. Only for it to be the thing that was leading him deeper into that dark, gloomy pit.

Hearing Phia cry only made her heart want to weep even more. She reached out and wrapped her own manicured hand around Phia’s more hardworking fingers. Trying to think of what her mother would say in this situation. If only she could summon that same courage and level-head that Merriweather had. Maybe she wasn’t a mother, but she could be a friend.

“Wes is complicated… and troubled… You and I know that probably better than anyone.”
She led with what was already true. Something that neither of them could doubt or push back against
“If he could do it right now I’m sure as shit that he would tell you how sorry he is for this whole mess.”


Claudia Jean considered her next words. Uncertain if it was worth saying what was on her mind. If she could really do it. Jumping over the hurdle inside her head, she forced it out. For Phia’s sake.

“And when he’s out of here, I’d bet that he will.”
Her own optimism was shaking perhaps, but giving in to that dark cloud looming inside her, wondering if the moment where she’d waved goodbye with a smile as her cousin grabbed her keys off the counter and disappeared out the door had been the last time she’d ever see him with air in his lungs. It wasn’t good for either herself or the girl beside her.

In spite of her own doubt, she lingered in the fantasy a bit more. That Wes would come home in a few days time. She’d give him her bed of course and she herself would sleep on the floor. Unless he really insisted on it, he always was such a bullhead like his father. Then maybe he could stay on his air mattress and she could make a pallet beside him with the couch cushions. Just like when they were little at Gigi’s house. Maybe she’d even get him to make up a story with her again too.

“We’ll celebrate his birthday this July too.”
Now that one was a bit less of a lie. They could do that whether or not the actual birthday boy was able to join them. The blonde’s insides squirmed with discontent. If this was how they were ringing in 2025, surely things could only go upwards from here.

Like Merriweather had done for both of them earlier Claudia Jean reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind the other girl’s ear. Feeling the rough texture of the strands brushing over her knuckles. She was running out of things to say, and if they were going to keep waiting for her mother to return. They both needed something to keep busy. At least until Adrian could arrive.

God, what a good boyfriend. Abandoning their shared New Year’s Eve plans to come play the waiting came with her at the hospital. Phia, Nix, Carmen, her mom, herself, now Adrian… Six people now caught in the wake of Wes’ situation. Misery loves company, don’t it?

“Can I braid your hair for you?”
She asked, tipping her head slightly towards one side. Her own blonde curls swaying with the motion
“You might feel better if it’s out of your face. Free up your worries a bit to focus on Wes.”
Claudia Jean was nodding softly now, running her fingers over the ends of the brunette’s tresses, making a mental note to try and coax her to the salon for a deep condition and a trim. Free of charge of course.

That’s what friends are for. Although if her cousin was Phia’s best friend, maybe that made Phia sort of a cousin too.






























hold on












♡coded by uxie♡

 
code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

As they looked at each other, something in him seemed to break—and mend—all at once. The feelings were too big, bigger than either of them could contain. For a while, the only sound was the soft, breathless crying of two teenagers who’d missed each other more than they could say.

Then, finally, Carmen found her voice.

“You want forgiveness? From me?” she sniffled.

“I don’t think it’s really worth much, but… if that’s all you need for us to be friends again, then…”

She shrugged, shoulders trembling.

“It’s yours.”

She tried to smile.
So did Nix.
Neither of them managed more than a strangled sob

Relief—hot, unexpected—flooded through him like warm water against frozen limbs. He hadn’t even realised how much he missed her until this moment. Until now.

He stayed quiet.
Let it settle.

Carmen looked like she wanted to say something else.

“Frannie—she was okay, though? I mean, after everything… Did she—could she stop?”

Nix blinked hard. Looked at her. His eyes were tired, sad, but open.

“I don’t know for sure,” he said quietly.

“She said she wanted to stop. Said she wanted to try too.”

He rubbed his thumb against his knuckles—an old nervous habit.

There was no hope in his voice, but no despair either.

Just that heavy, uncertain in-between. The kind of thing you learn to live with when you’ve seen people spiral.

“I don’t know if she stopped,” he repeated.

“I hope she did. I really, really do. I check in as much as I can… but…”

He trailed off. Shrugged, helpless. There was no neat ending to that sentence.

Silence stretched between them, growing heavier by the second. They were close now. Familiar streets. The last few intersections before they arrived that their destination.

Wes.


“I…” Nix’s voice cracked. “I should’ve tried harder to pull him out.”

A pause.

“Worse—I think I let it be okay…” his voice cracked at that one. Like he was just realising it himself.

The words came faster now, like they were unstoppable.

“I didn’t want him to be alone in it.” He shook his head “I didn’t want to be alone in it…”

One hand dropped off the wheel to his knee. His nails dug into his palm—hard. He didn’t even seem to feel it.

A long, shaky inhale.

“Wes needs to choose himself,” he whispered.

“I told him once… if he ever did that—if he ever decided to try—I’d walk with him.”

A beat- then

“I don’t know if he remembers. But I do.”
.
 




































































Carmen Tate
























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‘She said she wanted to be. Said she wanted to try too.’

Nix began admitting just a moment later,

‘I don’t know if she stopped. I hope she did. I really, really do. I check in as much as I can… but…’

Even the ever-straightforward Nix couldn’t untangle this one. Couldn’t tie it up in a neat bow of hope—or perhaps starry-eyed delusion—for her.

They were getting closer to their destination, a fact that seemed to bring a heaviness to the air inside the Suburban.

It was Nix who broke the silence again, blaming himself for the situation, and Carmen’s stomach went back to churning.

'I didn’t want him to be alone in it.’ He shook his head. ’I didn't want to be alone in it…’

His self-reflection had her ruminating on her own part in this—on her fear of rejection. She wrapped her arms around herself, her own nervous habit, as the color drained from her face.

The truth surfaced, filling her with a new kind of shame. A sharper kind. The kind that burned like a hot poker.

“You were wrong before. When you said those nice things about me... I’m not k-kind—or good.”


She tried to compose herself, as if preparing for a confession. Because in a way, it was.

A raw look into her fragile psyche.

“I’m selfish.”


This time, it was Carmen who couldn’t meet her driver’s gaze.

“I didn’t even try. I–I couldn’t even ask.”
Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t want to risk the possibility of pushing him away.”


No, tell the truth Carmen.

“Of ending up alone... Truthfully, I still don’t think I could give him that ultimatum, Nix.”


She swallowed—one of those swallows that hurt, just a little.

“Because I don’t think he’d choose me. Even if part of him wanted to—”


There she was again, making it about herself.

Even now, with Wes’ fate still up in the air.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the self-disgust that had taken hold of her, before finally looking back at Nix, eyes red and puffy.

Maybe she’d never be anything more than a selfish, delusional mess. But maybe she could help Nix realize he wasn’t either.

“All I’m saying is– you offered a hand. That’s more than some of us can say.”


Carmen couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I’.

Couldn’t admit any more guilt out loud.

“I’m sure Wes remembers. And hopefully now... he’ll take it.”


If he had the chance.























♡coded by uxie♡
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code by opaline
Phoenix Price
Eve of Destruction

Nix was quiet for a long moment after she finished speaking. He rejected the idea outright—that Carmen was selfish. But didn’t that mean maybe he wasn’t either? He thought about his own battle. What would he have said or done if Phia had ever told him that if he kept drinking and using, it would cost him their relationship?

I would’ve just felt lost… guilty… isolated. Would I have been able to stop? Maybe… but maybe not.

He didn’t want to die—but he didn’t think he could stop either. Didn’t think he had any hope of dragging himself through the day without it. He might’ve even pulled away from her, convinced he could only hurt her now. Wes had made it clear: he didn’t want to stop. He didn't want help. He didn't want support. Nix searched for the words. They were passing general admissions now.

He flicked the indicator at the last set of lights before they confronted whatever Wes’s reality was.

He glanced at Carmen’s puffy eyes. His heart broke a little for her. That wasn’t a decision you should have to make in your last year of high school. She should’ve been thinking about college or travelling or… just being young. A teenager.


“…I don’t think you’re selfish,” he said quietly. “I think you were scared. The… situation was too big for either of us.”

His fingers flexed on the wheel as he stared at the red traffic light ahead.

“I thought if I tried harder—or said the right thing—maybe I could’ve stopped him from falling. And you thought if you pushed too hard, maybe you’d be the reason he let go completely.”

He swallowed.

“I don’t know if either of us was right. But I don’t think either of us was wrong, either.”

He blinked slowly. Breath fogged faintly against the window.

“It was always up to Wes,” he murmured, like he was realising it in real time. “That… doesn’t make it hurt less. But maybe we’re not… bad people.”

He shook his head, childlike. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m bad anymore.”

The light turned green. Nix was slow to react, eyes a little glazed. The car behind them honked, loud and impatient, and he jumped—then hit the gas.

They pulled into the hospital carpark and weaved slowly through the rows of cars until he found a spot.

As he killed the engine, he took a deep breath and wiped his face, clearing away any lingering tears. Then, gently, he reached across for Carmen. Took her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

“We’re… in this together now,” he said, voice low. “Whatever happens in there…”

My hands are clammy.

The thought—and the sensation—had Nix pulling his hand back like he’d been scalded.

I don’t know how long I’m gonna be in there.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I need to take a sip or I’m going to break apart in front of everyone.

“Wait, I’ll help you out,” he said too quickly, stepping out of the car before she could. Maybe she’d trip on the tarmac. That was his excuse anyway.

But of course, there was another motivation.

The cold hit him like a slap, sharp against his sweat-slick skin. His stomach churned for the opposite reason to Carmen’s. He was sweating despite the chill. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

He reached inside his jacket.

Just a sip. Get me through this.

Ironically, if he didn’t, he might be even more unsafe on the roads later.

One sip… stay off the roads for an hour…

Try not to…
To get to close to anyone…

His anxiety was spiking. His chest felt tight. Heart racing too fast. Alarmingly fast. He was sick.

The hospital would only make it worse—he knew that. Even the harsh red glow of the emergency sign made his chest seize up like a fist had closed around it.

He unscrewed the cap, threw back a mouthful, and held it in his mouth. Let the burn hit like an old friend’s embrace. The chemicals would take a few minutes to kick in properly, but the relief was immediate.

So was the self-disgust.

He moved around to Carmen’s side of the car and opened the door. Held out his arm so she could steady herself as she climbed out.

Together, the two red-eyed teenagers shuffled across the carpark, hugging themselves against the cold.

The automatic doors whooshed open—and Nix stepped inside.

The change hit him instantly.The sterile, over-air-conditioned air.The chemical tang of disinfectant. The quiet but constant buzz of fluorescent lighting, like something was always humming just beneath the surface.

He paused.
Just for a second.
One second too long.
His breath caught—stuck between his ribs and throat.
His jaw clenched. His shoulders tensed.

He willed himself not to go back. Willed himself to stay in the present. To drown out the image of the nurse who’d told him there was nothing they could do.

He couldn’t hear Carmen anymore. Couldn’t see her, or Phia, or CJ—just the ghost of himself, standing right here, boots squeaking on the floor. Eyes wide. Staring past the reception desk like if he looked hard enough, his parents might materialize. But they’d been gone well before he’d even arrived.

His hands had curled into fists before he even realised. The weight of the flask in his jacket pocket was unbearable. He didn’t know if he was shaking—or if the whole world was.

He swallowed hard.

No tears. Not here. Not now.

Not when Phia’s watching. Not when Carmen’s still raw. Not when I’m supposed to be the one holding it together.
He drew in a ragged breath and forced his feet forward.

One step. Then another.
Like walking through molasses.

The waiting room loomed—same vinyl chairs. Same scuffed walls. Same goddamn vending machine in the corner that never worked right.

There she was.

Small. Shattered.

CJ was braiding her hair. Nix’s heart ached.

“Phee,” he called softly. Then forced a small smile at CJ. He didn’t move to hug her.

Can’t get close.
Pathetic.

He sank into the seat beside his sister and looked up at Carmen, patting the chair beside him.

“Is Merriweather talking to them?” he asked quietly, noticing she wasn’t there.
.
 
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Sophia Price
the sad girl
In a million years, Phia would have thought she would end up in a situation where she would be sobbing her eyes out to Wes’ cousin as she tried to find some kind of comfort. Maybe there was a first for everything, but Phia hated that she had to be in that situation to begin with.

And despite that they were stuck on the same situation, Claudia Jean still were trying to reassure her, that Wes would be sorry for causing all of this mess, maybe it was that southern charm or she was just her mother’s daughter, that Phia tried to hold into her words as if she could see the future and knew Wes would make it out of this.

But Claudia Jean’s next words were not exactly the ones she was expecting to hear; the sudden request that she braid Phia’s hair was confusing to say the least, but maybe that was her way of coping with all this entire mess, so Phia agreed with a small nod.

In other circumstances, Phia probably would have felt embarrassed at the state of her hair. After all, she was sure that Claudia Jean had to use more products than she could even think of, against the cheap shampoo they bought at the supermarket, or how she was sure it was feeling either greasy from the sweat after she ran to her house. It would have made her too conscious of the difference in their living conditions. Still, at that moment, Phia wasn’t really in the right mind to be thinking about whether she could afford a shampoo that smelled of roses instead of the one that had conditioner included.

“My hair is probably the worst you have seen in your entire life...”
she said, trying to ease the conversation. Perhaps that was the best thing Phia could do at that moment, trying to give back to the person who was trying to comfort her when she was also suffering at the same time.

But just as she said that, Nix showed up, calling her name softly, which was almost inaudible as he took a seat next to her, and once again, without saying a word, she held onto her brother’s hand as if the presence of Nix could take away all of her problems, in reality, it wouldn’t but at that moment Phia was just a scared girl, that only wanted to be protected by her older brother.
mood: stressed
outfit: here
location: hospital
interactions: thatonegirl28 thatonegirl28 matchaa matchaa
run - snow patrol

coded by Stardust Galaxy
 


















Eve of Destruction





tw: mentions of drugs/overdose, hospital/medical situations

As soon as she got an answer in the affirmative, Claudia Jean took to weaving her fingers through Phia’s hair. Carefully pulling apart the snarls and tangles in the girl’s thick brown hair. There was a small snap in her chest at Phia’s self-deprecation. Did she really not know how pretty she was? A real bright young soul who had been dealt a real shitty hand in life.

Reminded her of someone else she knew…

“No, no. Not by a long shot.”
She said, forcing a wry laugh out of her made-up lips. Like if she sounded like she was fine then maybe she would really feel it.
“The one that takes that cake has to be my own ‘do back when Wes took a pair of shears to it way back when.”
The story was familiar enough, one that she was sure she had told Phia before. It was a favorite of hers. A tale of Wes getting into trouble that actually had a happy ending, like maybe mentioning it now would be a good omen.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
This would be a bit easier with more products and tools at her disposal other than her fingers, but like her mother always liked to say. Maybe the bit of extra challenge was something good. It would keep her mind even further off the matter of her cousin and the tangled mess that surrounded him now. Seeming to ensnare more and more people as the night went on.

She was about halfway through braiding. Multiple utterances of
“Does that feel too tight?”
or
“Am I pulling too hard?”
later and the skinny young man known as Nix Price walked in. Trailed only a few footsteps behind him was the dark featured beauty that Claudia Jean knew as Carmen.

She listened to Nix’s inquiry, obviously directed at her more than anyone else. Phia was certainly in no place to answer. The way she grabbed onto her brother’s hand like it was all she was capable of doing.

Claudia Jean hummed a note of confirmation
“Yeah, I think I saw her talking to a nurse so hopefully she’ll be back soon with good news.”
She said, only briefly flickering her eyes towards Nix before bringing them back to the hair in her hands
“Maybe she’s even with him right now.”
An optimistic thought, but one that she wanted to cling to.

As she reached the end of the braid she held it tight with the end of her fingertips, pulling a scrunchie off her wrist to secure it with. She’d tell Phia she could keep it later. Now to wait for Adrian to arrive. Claudia Jean was starting to feel like she could use a hand to hold herself.






























hold on












♡coded by uxie♡

 
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