everlasting light. parker & mav

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

MAVERICK POOLE

It feels like one of those days where the sun came up just to start fucking laughing at you.

Really, you should have expected as much when you woke up in yet another cold sweat, every single muscle in your body tensed and wanting to shake. You had stayed up for hours last night, tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling at first and then going out and crawling out onto the rooftop you weren't supposed to know how to get out onto and plucking the last cigarette in the pack out of its cardboard home and lighting it up. You'd sat there for you don't even know how long, until your body legitimately felt like it was going to collapse into itself and you were a little worried that you might fall asleep and roll off the roof and fall to the concrete walkway and just.

Well, just die.

That was the image that plagued you in your nightmares last night.

You'd woken up knowing that today would be shit, but you hadn't expected this. You hadn't thought that Nai would think it was a good idea to try and put you and Grady in a room together, hadn't expected that you would walk into homeroom and be intrigued by Presley Douglas all over again, hadn't expected Ally St. Cloud to find you in the ceramics room and

That's what leads you to smoke finally.

Well, smoke again.

You hate the fucking stuff, always have, and you hate yourself just a little bit more every single time you walk into the market and walk out with that little carton of cigarettes and a set of matches. You hate how quickly the packs goes, hate how often you make yourself hate yourself all over again. Worry that you're just committing slow suicide and are too afraid to really admit it to yourself every single you light one of them up, but you don't know how to stop.

What's that about the things you own ending up owning you?

Yeah. It's like that.

And it makes you want to fucking choke.

But you've always been good at hating yourself, good at doing the things that are bad for you, the things that are going to get you killed. So you go in search of Parker. She's never been hard for you to find, really. Something about the two of you has always been in an odd kind of sync, not exactly friends—but something. A person that you know you can depend on for exactly whatever you need from the other. You stride around the corner of the gym, your guys favorite smoke spot. It's a little bit out of the way, have to go through a strip of forest to get to it, but there's something calming about the trees. You spot her easily, have a knack for plucking her out of the landscape, and go to sit by her. You lean back against the brick wall, slump down until you're sitting a foot or so away from where Parker is on the ground. You extend your legs out in front of you, and tip your head back against the wall.

"Bum one?" you ask, speaking to Parker with really no preamble. The pair of you know exactly what you are to each other. "Smoked my last one last night."

[Tom]

Salvatore Academy had driven her to already smoke two more cigarettes on top of the one from that morning already. Between Stella Provence and Grady Sullivan, she's already mentally and physically exhausted. She spent too long scrubbing tomato sauce from her top, only to realize the whole top was fucked until she could get to do laundry with actual soap. Her gym shirt was too large for her, with Salvatore Academy's logo and name printed to the front, she tied it into a ball on the side with a hair tie, ignoring the headache that started to take place already.

The back of the gym was their spot; she's claimed it as a place away from the roaming eyes of the student body. Last year, she had scared off one of the freshmen when he tried to smoke there, took photos of him with some girl who was not his girlfriend and after that, it became their spot for good. Instead of letting herself sink to the ground right away, she pulls the cigarette forward, soaking up the nicotine and blowing it back out to the sky, staring at the way the smoke evaporates into the air. Memories of the day blowing past her as she grounds herself by plucking at the knot in her shirt. Stella Provence was the worst. The way she had spoken about the dark room and her photos getting ruined had made her want to break her down piece by piece, but in the end, she didn't.

The sound of birds chirping is what catches her eye, silently, she pulls the camera that's been attached to her shoulders since the class day started forward. Clicking sounds of the shutter goes as she feels herself mourning what once was happy memories with Cleo Burns. Popularity only continued to be stupider and stupider every year. A girl was dead for ripred's sake, but popularity doesn't stop for anyone. A train blazing past her as she can never get on the vehicle, instead she watches it pass by her, getting glances through the windows of Cleo getting to smile and have the world in her palms.

Instead, she ignores the pang of guilt and disappointment echoing in her mind, slinking back against the wall, legs completely on the ground as she reaches for another cigarette only to see Maverick Poole in the distance, striding through the forest. No smile comes to her lips, instead she stops reaching for a cigarette. Fingers pull the camera off, closing the lens, setting it by her side as Maverick slides down the wall just a foot away from her. His head leans back, knowing this silent game of comfort they share together.

"Bum one?" A nod of her head as she fishes for her pack, letting herself pull out two more cigarettes. "Smoked my last one last night." A simple phrase with so much meaning behind it. A bad day was glaring out from beneath the sun at both of them. Silently, she flips her lighter, striking the thing until it lights, burning his cigarette and she lights her own with ease. Offering it out, gently for him, Parker knew that they both needed this, even if it was only for a moment. Life moves on around them and eventually, they'd have to go back to class or clubs or their dorms, pretending like nothing was bothering them once more.

"Already been through half of this one myself today." Eyes glancing to the supposed bad boy of Salvatore Academy, wondering who came up with that title for Maverick Poole of all people. "Stella's been at my throat all day. Pretty sure, she didn't like my critique of her photos." A frown on her lips as she breathes in the nicotine; letting the smoke settle herself.

"Think I might skip my next class."