ArchivedLogs:Hoping
| Hoping | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-04-27 Immediately post-partydrama |
| Location
<NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village | |
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Hive's apartment is looooud. Full of people. Full of /hats/, colourful and drab, simple and fancy, elegant and /silly/. The kitchen table has been cleared and there is a game of Power Grid underway because this apartment wouldn't be this apartment without the requisite amount of geekery happening. Hive and Ian and Daiki and Shane and Hope are playing, Daiki's marker currently far in the lead. There is Rock Band rock banding on the television, with Taylor on the guitar, Flicker on vocals, Karrie drumming and Dusk on bass. Ines is on the couch next to ghost, playing nothing but watching everything and occasionally stealing sips from the older teen's beer. "Thirty-three," Daiki (wearing a rather ridiculously four-leaf-clover shaped green felt hat to pair with his /actually/ elegant white tunic and dark slacks) is bidding on a wind-powered plant; he looks reflexively kind of nosewrinkly when Ian says, "mngh, have it." "Thirty-three is the /lowest/ bid," he reminds the others, quiet. Hive holds up his hands defensively: "Hey, I already got one, I can't --" "/Somebody/ bid," Daiki insists, which -- instantly prompts a round of bidding around the table. He rubs his palm against his face. Shane /grins/. "Look," he says, "if you want you can blame it on everyone being drunk." He does have a bottle of beer beside him! It's barely touched, admittedly. (His hat is black, a newsboy cap; it goes with his black vest and black slacks. No shirt. Just the vest.) Into all this partymirth slips Sebastian. Summery-bright in yellow butterfly tank top, a flowy light blue skirt. His floppy cloth bucket hat has been stitched together from a vivid rainbow of mismatched fabrics. In contrast to his dress, though, he's not /looking/ that sunny; a little sniffly, a little blotchy-faced. His mind is a heavy hurt weight of disappointment and resignation. He /might/ be thinking of skipping out on Party and returning to Ocean. << -- what happened? >> Hive is not the only one wondering this, eyes flicking to Sebastian around the room, but he is the only one /slamming/ the poor teenager with a brain-stab of pain. "Woah, Bastian. {Why are you crying.}" Shane has been counting through his money to decide about the current round of bidding, but now he is already on his feets, looking his brother over with a frown. "Here, guys --" He sort of -- waves his hand at his money and powerplants. "Dai, you can take these." "What no he can't!" Ian /frowns/ at this. "He's already stomping on everyone." Sebastian is answering the looks only with a faint shake of his head. He curls his hand into the crook of Shane's elbow and practically /drags/ his brother from the room. There's a rapidfire /jumble/ of not-actually-answer in his mind, not responding to Hive's query but prompted by it: Ivan /recoiling/ (in his memory it is Dramatic Recoiling, anyway, it might just have been Ivan being reserved) when Bastian arrived on the roof, Shelby pushing past him to storm off. << shouldn't have come back, >> is the /very/ strong sentiment underlying these recent recollections, as well as << gotta get out >> though he has no actual destination in mind. Out. Water. No people. /Out/. And then he's dragging Shane away, towards the door and out into the hall. "Uhhhhh." Shane is dragged! He baps Ghost on the shoulder in passing. "You can go play for me." Pinch-hitting boardgames. He does offer Hive a wry: << I'll bring my fucking phone this time. >> But then he is out in the hall, pulling the door closed behind them. "{What happened?}" comes with a slower pace of walking than the dragging, and a worried frown. Sebastian doesn't speak until they're in the stairwell, most of the way down tot he lobby. But when he /does/ he speaks all in a rush, words hitching with intermittent catches of breath as his gills flutter. "{I don't /know/ I wanted to find people. They said Shelby was here. I thought I'd -- but I went up there and Ivan /cringed/ and Shelby /stormed off/ and Peter was yelling and I don't /know/ I guess everyone still hates me I /did/ bite Ivan and I /failed/ at being a boyfriend and I don't think anyone wants me around anymore.}" "Woah -- woah." Shane listens to all this with a deepening frown, and now he loops /his/ arm through Sebastian's, tugging instead as they head out into the warm sun. The scowl on his face is not enough to /discourage/ the typical stares and mutters, but it is enough to keep them from escalating into anything more in-your-facey. "{Shelby stormed off because of you? She seemed fine last night. And Ivan -- well fuck Ivan. Fuck /all/ of them.}" This seems to be the answer he decides on in the end because it is repeated: "{Fuck all of them.}" Sebastian is still barefoot; as a result he's looking down at the ground more than at anyone around them, once they're out in the city. Stepping around broken glass. Avoiding suspicious stains. "{Yeah, but. I like. Having them.}" He leans into Shane's side, his gills quivering. "{I mean, I can't blame them. I bit Ivan and then we just took /off/ without saying anything, I'd hate me, too.}" "{Yeah.}" Shane says /this/ with a scowl, too. His arm slings around Sebastian's shoulder, and he is happy to provide navigation, steering the other boy down the street towards the subway. "{Whatever. You have me and Pa and Spence you don't need them. We don't even /have/ to go back to school if you don't want. -- Ugh, /you/ probably /want/.}" "{I want to at least have a /chance/ of going to college,}" Sebastian says with a shake of his head. "{But I guess I don't need them for that. I can just. Do classes. Sleep in the lake.}" For a moment he glances back over his shoulder towards the building. "{I guess I was just hoping --}" "/Pfft/," Shane cuts off this line of thought with a sharp snort. "{/I/ would /hope/}," he says 'hope' wryyyyyly, "{that you'd learned by now how fucking /stupid/ hoping is.}" For /some reason/ this doesn't seem to cheer Sebastian up much. But it does /relax/ him, for a given quieter-calmer value of relaxed, sort of wilting into Shane's side as they disappear down the subway stairs. "{Yeah.}" | |
