- Board -
f4b88, *Carys Wilder: ( *Scoff.* I didn't fuck her. You made that bed yourself. Besides, I wouldn't wanna cock block... )
8d4f9, *Tyler Young: *Throws hands into the air* Neither have I! And with that face of yours, you don't even have to try to cock block.]]
f4b88, *Carys Wilder: ( *Scoff.* I didn't fuck her. You made that bed yourself. Besides, I wouldn't wanna cock block... )
8d4f9, *Tyler Young: I see you haven't lost your cruel streak.]]
f4b88, *Carys Wilder: ( *Low whistle.* Yanno, I just give you and Smashley some alone time. )
8d4f9, *Tyler Young: Tyler had done his best to ignore the weight on his arm, and found his opportunity for freedom in the bouncer's request for identification. He ignored the extra pats and gropes from the man and decided to believe it was because he was new. The other bouncers knew him as a regular, and only did this song and dance if there was a line of people. Ty's head snapped up when he heard Carys speak, her voice holding his gaze to her own. 'Familiar,' she said, and his heart dive-bombed into his heels. Did she remember him after all? If so, what parts? Tyler could only release an awkward short laugh, but she was gone before he could think of a reply.
"It's just us now, Ty," he heard Ash say, but she sounded miles away. He was still watching the bathroom hallway, as if she would burst from the entry way like a demon of her own, screeching out for his blood. He gave his head a faint shake and turned towards the bar.
"PBR, tall boy if you have that in again." He said to the bartender, reaching into his pocket again for his wallet.
"Make that two!" Ash piped up beside him, and tried to hold his arm. He moved away and tapped the counter.
"Three." If his memory served well, Carys had always battled with her class. Despite her parent’s disgust, she had always preferred to slum it with Ty. The bartender placed the three twenty-four ounce cans on the counter, and Ty replaced them with six dollars. Time to find out if this was still his Carys.
f4b88, *Carys Wilder: Standing on the corner, Carys lifted her nose to the chill on the wind, drank it in. There was something there, hm? She felt a stirring within, a stirring she had been repressing for longer than she even realized until this evening. It felt like a sudden loss of control, which was ironic, because Carys - all the bad little habits, all her strange thoughts, the slow journey of self-destruction she had been on in all the years she had been away - was for all intents and purposes, out of control. She could handle that sort of recklessness though. It was this stirring, this inner unknown, that was frightening her. And yet, some deep part of her is excited by all of this turmoil that only she could sense. She’s privately aggravated with herself on that point.
Carys dips her blue-green gaze to the street just as a car comes screeching to a halt, horn blaring, Ashley yelping and clutching at her arm. And yet Carys’ face is passive and unsurprised - almost like this had been an expected disruption to the evening. Now she is aggravated by the way her friend is clinging to her. She’s not big on being touched. She needs a drink. Maybe another half will quiet the restless stirring in her breast. Instinctively, her free hand slips into the roomy pocket of her coat, fingers clenching the little plastic bottle buried there…the bathroom would be her first stop once they’re inside the dive bar.
Hey Ash. That’s what the voice said out loud, but Carys heard her own name whispered just then, in a hushed and deep voice that was intensely familiar. It caused her to immediately release the bottle, her eyes widening to take in the man now standing before them. But he wasn’t looking at her; at least, not directly. She got the distinct impression that he was avoiding her eyes. Ashley, by this point, has forsaken her friend in favor of hopping over to Tyler, hanging on his arm and beaming up at him a little too enthusiastically. Her energy has changed drastically. So this was the unrequited interest Ashley has been wringing her hands over. Carys couldn’t care less, however. She was squinting at Tyler in the darkness of the early morning. The light would only get worse in the bar, she was sure of it.
“You look familiar,” she finally said to him as they made their way past the bouncer, who made a point of patting Tyler down more intensely. It was only a passing, casual comment though - as if she were observing the weather. Indeed, whatever had transpired between Carys and Tyler all those years ago had been blasted from her memory by someone who was quite good at these things. Still, even the best will workers can never fully kill memories such as those. They were just...buried. Maybe Carys would prefer to keep it that way, if she knew. Perhaps this was her way of self-preserving - she was already on her way to the bathroom. It was time to obliterate. Flicking her eyes behind her, she caught and held Tyler’s gaze for the first time, eye to eye. She found herself faltering for a second.
“I’ll...be right back,” she says, before plunging into the darkness of the building, fingers finding the bottle once more.
8d4f9, *Tyler Young: Tyler had his hood up and his head down as he neared his favorite little bar, and he would have missed the two women completely if Ashley had not called out his name. He glanced up in surprise and saw her waving to him from across the street. He was half tempted to turn on his heel and walk the other, but the woman standing next to Ashley had him curious. Maybe fate had decided to not fuck him over tonight. He haphazardly stepped out into the street just as the signal changed to not walk. A car came to a screeching halt next to him and the disgruntled driver put all his weight into his horn. Tyler ignored the persistent driver, and came to stand in front of the two women.
“Hey Ash,” he dipped his head towards her before flicking his eyes to her friend. Ash introduced them, and Tyler began to offer his hand until he heard her name. ‘Carys...Carys…’ where had he heard that name before? It was so familiar, as was the shape of her face. And those eyes. ‘Wilder,’ his mind whispered and the memories of her flooded back to him.
In a half second, he saw them playing together on the school playground. The swings were always their favorite and they used to compete to see who could swing the highest. He remembered having dinner at her family’s place; he was so out of place there. And her having dinner at his place; she was just as out of place. He recalled walking to school together, always trying to get seats next to one another, walking to the woods together. The woods. Her blood. Her screams. Her fear.
Tyler pulled his hand back just before she could take his, placing it back into his pocket. He gave her a lopsided smile and a half shrug.
“Sorry. I need to wash my hands,” he stopped to look at both of them, and nodded to the bar, “you guys come here? I haven’t seen you. I think I would remember.” Ash giggled as Tyler walked into the bar, his nerves on end. Does she remember him? They had just been kids the last time they saw each other. Did she think of it often? Him? Does she resent him? Fuck, he needed a drink.
f4b88, *Carys Wilder: Kicking the toe of her Chucks against the curb, Carys stood in the gutter, arms folded over her small frame. She was jittery, anxious, bored - the worst of combinations, chemically-induced - and her face showed it. Never had been good about hiding her feelings, but her current companion, Ashley, was far too preoccupied with her own problems to take offense, even if she was trying to act like everything was cool. Carys had known her since primary school, but more than that, she knew where to buy pills, and that was the only reason Carys was with her tonight.
It had been a slow descent. Carys had come home to get sober. She didn’t know who she had been kidding. Being back home for the first time in years - well, she simply underestimated the loneliness. Shuttering herself in her apartment hadn’t worked out too well for her so far. She had stayed clean for a few days...the first three were never too bad. But then the dreaded Day 4 arrived, bringing tremors, delirium, nausea, night sweats and terrors unspeakable. It only intensified the following day, and time became an inconceivable concept for Carys. It was all just hell, and unending. Day 6 found Carys calling up anyone she still had listed; Ashley happened to be the one who answered her needs. Now it was Day 7, and Carys is chilled out. The pills rattle occasionally from the depths of her pocket. Even the sound, their weight, have a soothing effect.
Naturally, Ashley assumed Carys wanted to kick it with her now that she was back in town. Carys never quite intended all that, but then again, what else did she have to do? When one is smothered in money and privilege their entire life, a certain degree of callousness sets in. Everything is casual. There was supposed to be group, “we’re gonna party, yeah?” - but when Carys had got down to Robby’s, the shitty little Italian spot where Ashley had just gotten off her shift, the crew of party people promised to make Carys’ night interesting had apparently all gotten tied up elsewhere. Ashley had her nose in her phone, the artificial glow illuminating an anxious expression as she scrolled and scrolled, tapped in a few letters, then scrolled more. Carys studied her so-called friend for a moment, the lines etched in her face. The phone’s light made her look more aged, for some reason. And she saw it then: a shadow looming somewhere there, beyond the text messages zipping around, behind the frantic thoughts of a desperately horny young woman. Carys focused, her brows knitting. The drugs had a tendency to dull her senses - and not just the usual ones. But whatever lurked there - it was a him, she could feel that now - was coming through strong. The energy was palpable, and that was just the emotions he’d left behind on her so-called friend. Carys raised her brows to no one but herself.
“Ugh. Must have bad reception, not getting my texts…” Ashley shook her head as she switched off her phone, sliding it into her back pocket. Carys snapped herself back to the present, the stranger in her friend’s thoughts slipping away from her tenuous mental grasp. Curiosity, however, had already planted its seeds in her brain, and she had the sudden and strong thirst to know more about him - whoever he was.
“No worries though! I know where he goes...” So that’s how Ashley and Carys came to Shark Fins, the former on the hunt for sex (and probably more), and the latter just wondering what the hell he was - because even from the faint traces she had felt from him, he didn’t seem anything like ordinary. She should do well to keep her guard up, however; it was just as likely he was quite dangerous.
8d4f9, *Tyler Young: Tyler stood outside his manager's office with his back resting up against the dull and colorless wall. Through the closed door, he could hear the tapping of a calculator mixed in with occasional mutter. Ty blew out air, his lips raspberrying on themselves. He hated not being present while his tips were counted. He knew his manager, Robby, would short him again just as he had done the past couple of weeks. Two short taps sounded from the inside of the door, signaling Ty to open the door. 'Finally,' he thought to himself as he pulled the heavy wood door open. The door closed on its own behind him ("security measure" as Robby calls it), and the click sounded just like the hammer of a gun. Robby used the tip of his pen to motion to the rather thin looking envelope at the edge of the desk, and then returned to the paperwork he was working on. Ty swiped the envelope off the table, and spent less than a few second thumbing through the bills.
"You're joking, right? There's not even one hundred dollars in here."
"Guess you'll have to be more personable next time," Robby replied without looking up. Ty stared him down, trying very hard to pick words that wouldn't lead to unemployment. Before he could say anything, Robby leaned back in his chair, looked at Tyler, and shrugged.
"What do you want me to say, Ty. We've been over this, you know the deal. Take what you have, and you'll have a job tomorrow, okay? Get out." Tyler contemplated holding his ground, his eyes locked with Robby. He imagined reaching across the small table the manager called a desk and using the small man as a table wipe. Instead, he stuffed the cash into his pocket, and turned to leave incident free.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow Ty." Robby laughed behind him. Tyler stopped and utilized every ounce of restraint he had to not turn around and lose his job.
"Day off," Tyler grit out between his clenched jaw he wrenched the door wide open, allowing it to slam hard enough to shake the walls. He walked to the small metal crate that they called a locker, and began to spin the dial. Behind him came the smell of lavender body wash, and he felt his entire body tighten.
"Hey Ty," he heard from the overly shy voice, and he tried to place a genuine smile.
"Hey Ash," he replied over his shoulder while grabbing his backpack.
"Where are you headed to tonight?" She asked him as he replaced the branded tee shirt he wore with one of his own. Ty hesitated to answer. He knew what she wanted, and he was not in the mood to give it to her tonight.
"I dunno. Probably just head home for now." She opened her mouth to reply, but he slammed his locker door loud enough to stall for a couple of seconds.
"See ya," he said and was out the back door before she could reply. Stress bunched between his shoulder blades, muscles tensed in his back, and his heart beat harder than it should. He felt close to losing it as he stepped out into the alleyway, the neon ROBBY'S lighting the puddles in the potholes. There was still a light mist left over from the evening's earlier rain, and Ty pulled up the hood from his hybrid shirt in response.
His city rose up to each slap of his sneakers against the pavement, shaking the stress loose from his bones. It only took a few blocks for his pulse to match the city's, and his problems from the restaurant were only a memory. The cash in his pocket weighed heavy and he repeated to himself for the third time to stop by the bank ATM on the way home. The small pile of envelopes waiting for him at home was at the forefront of his mind, only coming to a stop when he did at the crosswalk. He pressed the button, and waited a couple of seconds before pressing it again. Across the street, a small garden wall boasted a few decades work of graffiti art, but all Tyler could make out was "fuck the world" in black lettering that was darker than the night sky. He mashed the button a few more times, and it seemed as if the words grew larger with each of his presses. He glanced down the road to the left, and could see the lit up dive bar known as Shark Fins in the distance. Tyler pulled out his phone to check the time - ignoring the text from Ash - and saw it wasn't even 01:00 in the morning yet. He glanced back down the street to the small bar, knowing it would be hellishly packed on a Friday night. He shook his head, telling himself he had bills to pay.
"Next time," he whispered, mashing the walk button. He heard the automated voice announce WALK, but as fate would have it, it was for the sidewalk leading to Shark Fins. He mashed his button a few more times - mash mash WALK mash WALK WALK mash fuck mash mash WALK mash the WALK mash world. The countdown began, telling pedestrians they only twenty, nineteen, eighteen seconds to cross the street before they lost their chance. With about ten seconds to spare, Tyler jogged across the street and headed towards Shark Fins, hoping that a PBR or three might be just what he needs.
Chat cleared by Mal.
Last Post:7:27pm, February 24 (UTC) (1)
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