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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the aftermath of some party
w/ Nii & Vincent
astrowrld
"Wake up."
Mmph. The distantly familiar voice pierced through his haze and pulled uncomfortably at his consciousness. Without even properly comprehending the demand being made, Wren knew that he wanted to ignore it. He felt pleasantly comatose, head filled with cotton and eyelids still heavy. A devilish hand landed on his shoulder and shook him with persistence the man so loathed at the moment. He was fine. He didn't need to move. Who was trying to make him move?
As soon as Wren's eyes fluttered open, the light dazzled the darkest parts of his retinas. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been so nauseous in his life. The cotton in his head was now mildly suffocating and the boxer was suddenly very aware of how gross his own mouth tasted. His full lips pulled back in a grimace as he pointedly turned away from the hand and shoved his face deeper into the pillow he'd been hugging... That wasn't a familiar smell. Maybe it would be a good idea to figure out whose bed he was occupying.
"Wake up, Wren." Oh, no. It was fine. He knew that voice.
"Fuck off, Nii," the man growled, voice raspy with sleep and his hangover.
"You told me to wake you up at noon and it's 2," his friend all but whined at him.
That woke him up. The native was immediately on his knees, one hand cradling his forehead and the other scrambling across foreign sheets in search of his phone. "Well then, why didn't you wake me the fuck up?!" He snapped at the man he now noticed was sitting on the edge of the bed. And Wren still wasn't totally sure where he was, even after he had his phone in his hands and confirmed to himself that it is, in fact, 2:07. Almost a full half-hour late for his training session with that terrifying coach. He ignored his friends' indignant defences; something about how Wren's a log even when he's sober, let alone hammered. The boxer knew he shouldn't have had even a sip of alcohol last night; it wasn't good for his training regime. But his friends had been so convincing and then there had been that girl that kept pushing shots into his hand. What had been her name...? Oh, whatever. He snatched his shirt off the floor, giving a derisive snort when he had to detangle it from someone's bra.
He reached back and ruffled his friend's hair to repair whatever tension had been there before he stumbled out into the hallway, carefully descending a set of stairs and then evading the bodies that were still passed out on and next to the nearby couches. It was a feeling deep in his bones. Today was gonna be a bad day.
--
By the time he finally burst into the gym, face flushed and chest heaving, it was 2:30 and Wren was an hour late. He made a beeline for the change rooms, only stopping briefly to flip off a grinning sparring partner who took it upon himself to make an ominous 'you're dead' gesture. The boxer changed in record time and was still hopping around to get into his other shoe when he emerged onto the floor. He didn't bother apologizing when he jogs up to his coach, hoping that his clearly humiliated and hungover expression is enough of a punishment. Though he knows full well it won't be.
w/ Nii & Vincent
astrowrld
"Wake up."
Mmph. The distantly familiar voice pierced through his haze and pulled uncomfortably at his consciousness. Without even properly comprehending the demand being made, Wren knew that he wanted to ignore it. He felt pleasantly comatose, head filled with cotton and eyelids still heavy. A devilish hand landed on his shoulder and shook him with persistence the man so loathed at the moment. He was fine. He didn't need to move. Who was trying to make him move?
As soon as Wren's eyes fluttered open, the light dazzled the darkest parts of his retinas. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been so nauseous in his life. The cotton in his head was now mildly suffocating and the boxer was suddenly very aware of how gross his own mouth tasted. His full lips pulled back in a grimace as he pointedly turned away from the hand and shoved his face deeper into the pillow he'd been hugging... That wasn't a familiar smell. Maybe it would be a good idea to figure out whose bed he was occupying.
"Wake up, Wren." Oh, no. It was fine. He knew that voice.
"Fuck off, Nii," the man growled, voice raspy with sleep and his hangover.
"You told me to wake you up at noon and it's 2," his friend all but whined at him.
That woke him up. The native was immediately on his knees, one hand cradling his forehead and the other scrambling across foreign sheets in search of his phone. "Well then, why didn't you wake me the fuck up?!" He snapped at the man he now noticed was sitting on the edge of the bed. And Wren still wasn't totally sure where he was, even after he had his phone in his hands and confirmed to himself that it is, in fact, 2:07. Almost a full half-hour late for his training session with that terrifying coach. He ignored his friends' indignant defences; something about how Wren's a log even when he's sober, let alone hammered. The boxer knew he shouldn't have had even a sip of alcohol last night; it wasn't good for his training regime. But his friends had been so convincing and then there had been that girl that kept pushing shots into his hand. What had been her name...? Oh, whatever. He snatched his shirt off the floor, giving a derisive snort when he had to detangle it from someone's bra.
He reached back and ruffled his friend's hair to repair whatever tension had been there before he stumbled out into the hallway, carefully descending a set of stairs and then evading the bodies that were still passed out on and next to the nearby couches. It was a feeling deep in his bones. Today was gonna be a bad day.
--
By the time he finally burst into the gym, face flushed and chest heaving, it was 2:30 and Wren was an hour late. He made a beeline for the change rooms, only stopping briefly to flip off a grinning sparring partner who took it upon himself to make an ominous 'you're dead' gesture. The boxer changed in record time and was still hopping around to get into his other shoe when he emerged onto the floor. He didn't bother apologizing when he jogs up to his coach, hoping that his clearly humiliated and hungover expression is enough of a punishment. Though he knows full well it won't be.
Last edited:
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. tired + really wants to go home.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. vincent o'malley + wren qwastenaya + jackson michaels[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]If the fact Elliot had been living off of nothing but iced coffee for the past two days wouldn't kill him, then his dad finding out he'd been living off of nothing but coffee definitely would. Okay, he wasn't allowed to be entirely blamed โ the life of a college student was rough enough, but when you had to endure the constant sleepless nights because of the nightmares that just wouldn't leave him, you'd go to pretty desperate measures too.
Elliot squinted under the harsh Las Vegas sun as he walked towards the entrance of his dad's gym, wondering just why he had to subject himself to the torture of long sleeves and jeans in this kind of weather. He didn't have much time to ponder it as he opened the door to the gym, the sound of rap music and his dad yelling at the newest trainee flooding his ears. He huffed softly, going to the desk where he normally sat and set his backpack down on the floor, sitting down in the chair.
The gym was slightly chilly, mainly due to the fans blowing, and he was glad that he wore long sleeves now. He checked his watch, noting that it was 1:00 PM and his dad should be finished soon, which would give him some time to talk to him before his dad's next group of people came in. Elliot was pretty sure it was that group of two that were normally together that were going to show up at 1:30, Wren and Jackson, if Elliot wasn't mistaken.
He had to admit โ there were some positives of working here. Getting to see hot guys shirtless for five hours a day, three days a week was more than enough for Elliot. Whenever he tried to joke about it with his dad, he got this weird look on his face and reminded him about his no dating boxers for Elliot rule, so Elliot learned to not joke about it. He was fine with that.
Elliot's thoughts were interrupted by his dad walking over and leaning over the desk, inspecting the textbook Elliot had open on the desk. "You got homework, kiddo?" His dad asked, leaning forward and ruffling his son's hair, as if he was nine, not nineteen. "Yeahโ yes, dad, I have homework." He said, pushing his hand away. His hands were sweaty. Gross. "Don't you have people coming in at one?" He asked, his dad giving him a knowing look.
"Yeah, Wren and Jackson." His dad said, Elliot's face flushing red in response. Man, what he'd give to stop his body from betraying him at every moment. He nodded slowly, avoiding the quizzical look his dad was giving him. "Well, I'll leave you to your homework. Although it'd be nice if you could help me clean up over here."
Elliot grumbled under his breath in response, pushing his chair back and standing up, going to help his dad clean up and sanitize everything before the next people got there. He hummed softly as he worked, making sure he got everything cleaned. When he was done, he left the ring without a word, heading back over to the desk. He was starting to get a little cold, and he brought his knees up to his chest as he looked over his textbook again, trying to focus on the words on the page.
About twenty minutes passed by when Jackson walked into the gym, Elliot giving him a small wave and marking that he arrived, turning his attention back to his textbook. The rap music began playing once again, almost louder than it was before, and Elliot pretty much gave up on trying to pay attention to his textbook. He shut it, putting it back into his backpack and pulling his phone out, scrolling through Instagram in an attempt to distract himself.
An hour had almost passed before Wren burst into the gym, his dad finally losing that angry look on his face. Elliot watched Wren intently, his face flushing as he averted his glance, trying to make it not obvious at all he was staring at him. He marked down that Wren showed up, noting that it was an hour late. He wasn't trying to be nosy as he heard his dad chew Wren out when he finally came out of the changing room, but it was hard not to. The gym was pretty small anyways, and his dad was loud.
"What's the excuse this time, Wren?" His dad asked, and Elliot turned his glance back to Wren, his face bright red as he tried to not make it obvious that he was checking Wren out. Jesus Christ. Could he get himself together, please? Couldn't blame him, though. Wren was pretty nice to look at.
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ his gym
w/ vincent, elliot, & jackson
Wren cracked his neck as he came to a halt in front of his coach, brow low over his gaze as he definitely was not pouting about what an awful day it had been so far. The last thing he needed was a chastising from the old man. Ok, he wasn't that old. And he was more than what Wren could consider any ordinary 'man'. He was Vincent O'Malley. As in, the icon. As in, one of the only role models that had ever stayed constant in Wren's messy, otherwise inconsistent life. He remembered having a stupid grin plastered to his face for days after hearing the news from his father that he was being accepted as the boxing legend's protege. But, regardless of the realities of the situation, Wren had to consider the guy like any other irritating authority figure to stop the self-loathing he could feel itching at his temples. They were barely a month into the young boxer's training and he was already making a pretty disappointing habit of showing up late. No matter that he still won every sparring match; it wasn't about that. That was made very clear to him. Even if he had a dumb amount of raw talent, if he wasn't going to put the discipline in, he didn't deserve an ounce of the glory he received. Or that's what was told to him, anyway. He wasn't totally convinced yet.
And that's why he was in the position he was, staring at the floor and absentmindedly swinging his arms to loosen them up as he tried desperately to figure out how to make this sound as responsible as possible. In his quest to find something to focus his gaze on, he managed to lock eyes with the man's son. Who was already looking right at him? Wren's brow drew close in half a second of blessed distraction as he examined the other's flushed appearance. He had been at the desk when he'd tumbled in; there was no reason he should look so... Tired? Sick? Anxious? What the fuck?
Oh, god, wait, he had a job to do. Wren's jaw clenched in embarrasement and he tore his gaze away from the other boy (Elliot, right?) to meet the father's terrifying eyes. Wren had never felt so lame about disappointing someone in his life. And he'd disappointed his own father a ton of times. "I, uhh..." Great start, you fucking moron. "I got dragged to a party and was force-fed jello shots?"
He made his way through that sentence with all the grace of a dinosaur. And not one of the bird ones either.
w/ vincent, elliot, & jackson
Wren cracked his neck as he came to a halt in front of his coach, brow low over his gaze as he definitely was not pouting about what an awful day it had been so far. The last thing he needed was a chastising from the old man. Ok, he wasn't that old. And he was more than what Wren could consider any ordinary 'man'. He was Vincent O'Malley. As in, the icon. As in, one of the only role models that had ever stayed constant in Wren's messy, otherwise inconsistent life. He remembered having a stupid grin plastered to his face for days after hearing the news from his father that he was being accepted as the boxing legend's protege. But, regardless of the realities of the situation, Wren had to consider the guy like any other irritating authority figure to stop the self-loathing he could feel itching at his temples. They were barely a month into the young boxer's training and he was already making a pretty disappointing habit of showing up late. No matter that he still won every sparring match; it wasn't about that. That was made very clear to him. Even if he had a dumb amount of raw talent, if he wasn't going to put the discipline in, he didn't deserve an ounce of the glory he received. Or that's what was told to him, anyway. He wasn't totally convinced yet.
And that's why he was in the position he was, staring at the floor and absentmindedly swinging his arms to loosen them up as he tried desperately to figure out how to make this sound as responsible as possible. In his quest to find something to focus his gaze on, he managed to lock eyes with the man's son. Who was already looking right at him? Wren's brow drew close in half a second of blessed distraction as he examined the other's flushed appearance. He had been at the desk when he'd tumbled in; there was no reason he should look so... Tired? Sick? Anxious? What the fuck?
Oh, god, wait, he had a job to do. Wren's jaw clenched in embarrasement and he tore his gaze away from the other boy (Elliot, right?) to meet the father's terrifying eyes. Wren had never felt so lame about disappointing someone in his life. And he'd disappointed his own father a ton of times. "I, uhh..." Great start, you fucking moron. "I got dragged to a party and was force-fed jello shots?"
He made his way through that sentence with all the grace of a dinosaur. And not one of the bird ones either.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. amused, kinda embarrassed.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. vincent o'malley + wren qwastenaya + jackson michaels[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot couldn't help but snort out a laugh at Wren's response, immediately averting his gaze and glancing down at his lap, pretending to be incredibly intrigued on whatever just so happened to be on his phone, filing that excuse in the back of his head for later use, knowing his dad would absolutely get a kick out of that. The sigh that left his dad's lips could've knocked down a couple houses, or however that one story about the big bad wolf went. Elliot didn't remember.
"Go start warming up, you two. And, for Christ's sake, Wren, don't come in here late โ and hungover โ again. Especially with your tongue still stained blue." Vince spoke, waving the two of them off to start doing their warm ups. Elliot met his dad's eyes, and immediately had to stifle another laugh, bringing his knees up to his chest to try and keep himself from laughing out loud. He unlocked his phone again, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram once more as he paid more attention to the voices in the background.
He glanced up again, watching Wren, once again trying to make it not so obvious. But, considering Wren caught his glance the first time, he knew he'd have to try his best and make sure he wasn't caught again. Elliot was bad at being subtle, apparently. As he watched him warm up with Jackson, he found his eyes lingering for longer than acceptable, and quickly tore them away, biting his lower lip harshly. Jesus. He needed to get himself together.
He pulled his textbook out of his backpack again, setting it on the desk and trying to focus on the reading he had to finish before class the next day, but found himself giggling softly when his thoughts went back to what Wren said, trying to stifle them quickly. His eyes glanced back up towards Wren and Jackson, where his dad was showing him some new techniques or whatever, Elliot had never learned too much about boxing, since his dad wouldn't let him.
Elliot's glance stuck on Wren once again, and he tore his eyes away, shifting in his seat. God, this was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. He chewed at his power lip again, glancing down at his textbook. Force fed jello shots. He didn't know why that kept on cracking him up.
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[div class=quote]"humor is the best medicine, especially for pining."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ his gym
w/ vincent, elliot, & jackson
Wren's shoulders stiffened at the sound of what really felt like a quite derisive snort. His neck almost cracked with how quickly he turned his head to the younger man's direction, eyes somehow even more set in their glare than they were previously. That wasn't supposed to be funny. What made that twink think he could laugh at him? His lip curled in a snarl as he dropped his jaw to snap at him when his attention was jerked back to his coach once more. His expression was instantly sombre again after that sigh and his eyes widened at the implication that his... Tongue was still blue? He fought the urge to go somewhere to check. Just nodded politely and gave an irritable wave of his hand to beckon his sparring partner. Jackson followed but seemed incapable of wiping that shit-eating grin off his face. Wren couldn't wait to do it himself. He wrinkled his nose mockingly at the other man as he dropped down into a sitting position. His legs stretched out in front of him and he brought his hands down to grip at his ankles, bringing his chest down as close to his knees as his body allowed.
The uncomfortable pull in his muscles made it impossible for him not to pay attention to the giggling receptionist. He tilted his head, stray hairs falling over his forehead as he sized the other man up briefly. The second he looked away, Elliot looked up. It would've been cute if Wren wasn't so obviously pissed. After a couple of minutes, he was happy with how light his legs felt and jumped to his feet. He bounced a few times before stretching his arms far above his head. "You ready, fuckface?"
"I've been ready since 1:30, jello-shot," his sparring partner jabbed back from where he was stretching out his back.
"Skoden," Wren growled as he let his arms drop back down to his sides, cringing a little bit as his accent peeked out.
"Excuse me? English?"
Ouch. "Let's. Go. Then." He was extra fired up now and gave Jackson about half a second to fall into a fighting stance before he was lunging at the other man. It took him five seconds to ram a bare-fisted jab into the other man's abdomen and knock him onto his side with a sharp open-handed swipe to the side of his neck. It was impressive, harsh, clearly angry, and super illegal. As soon as he was standing over Jackson, he noticed the daze in the other man's eyes and scoffed, disguising his surprise at his own impulsiveness. He lifted his hands passively in attempted nonchalance as he took a couple of steps back, adding a "sorry, coach" for good measure. He glanced back at Elliot. To see if he had been watching. He wasn't super sure why.
w/ vincent, elliot, & jackson
Wren's shoulders stiffened at the sound of what really felt like a quite derisive snort. His neck almost cracked with how quickly he turned his head to the younger man's direction, eyes somehow even more set in their glare than they were previously. That wasn't supposed to be funny. What made that twink think he could laugh at him? His lip curled in a snarl as he dropped his jaw to snap at him when his attention was jerked back to his coach once more. His expression was instantly sombre again after that sigh and his eyes widened at the implication that his... Tongue was still blue? He fought the urge to go somewhere to check. Just nodded politely and gave an irritable wave of his hand to beckon his sparring partner. Jackson followed but seemed incapable of wiping that shit-eating grin off his face. Wren couldn't wait to do it himself. He wrinkled his nose mockingly at the other man as he dropped down into a sitting position. His legs stretched out in front of him and he brought his hands down to grip at his ankles, bringing his chest down as close to his knees as his body allowed.
The uncomfortable pull in his muscles made it impossible for him not to pay attention to the giggling receptionist. He tilted his head, stray hairs falling over his forehead as he sized the other man up briefly. The second he looked away, Elliot looked up. It would've been cute if Wren wasn't so obviously pissed. After a couple of minutes, he was happy with how light his legs felt and jumped to his feet. He bounced a few times before stretching his arms far above his head. "You ready, fuckface?"
"I've been ready since 1:30, jello-shot," his sparring partner jabbed back from where he was stretching out his back.
"Skoden," Wren growled as he let his arms drop back down to his sides, cringing a little bit as his accent peeked out.
"Excuse me? English?"
Ouch. "Let's. Go. Then." He was extra fired up now and gave Jackson about half a second to fall into a fighting stance before he was lunging at the other man. It took him five seconds to ram a bare-fisted jab into the other man's abdomen and knock him onto his side with a sharp open-handed swipe to the side of his neck. It was impressive, harsh, clearly angry, and super illegal. As soon as he was standing over Jackson, he noticed the daze in the other man's eyes and scoffed, disguising his surprise at his own impulsiveness. He lifted his hands passively in attempted nonchalance as he took a couple of steps back, adding a "sorry, coach" for good measure. He glanced back at Elliot. To see if he had been watching. He wasn't super sure why.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. embarrassed, antsy.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. vincent o'malley + wren qwastenaya + jackson michaels[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]At the harsh glare Wren sent his direction, Elliot averted his glance for good, knowing all too well the look he was giving him right now โ it was similar to the one his dad would give him when Elliot was really getting on his nerves. He hated being on the receiving end of that look. So, he instead starting rifling through the papers that were placed on his desk, payments from people and emails his dad felt were important to print out.
He breathed out a heavy sigh, blowing a few strands of hair out of his face and gave his full attention to the small group inside the ring once the actual fighting began, cringing internally upon witnessing the hit to the neck that Jackson took. When he locked eyes with Wren again, his face flushed deep red and he immediately looked away, only half listening to the conversation, catching bits and pieces of what his dad was saying. "That would've been good, if it wasn't entirely illegal, Wren. Remember what I said about always thinking two steps ahead? I know you're angry, but you can't let that cloud your mind. Think." Elliot's dad said, giving them the motion to go again once Jackson was back on his feet.
Elliot was suddenly thankful that the gym's phone had begun to ring โ sweet, sweet distraction.
"O'Malley Gym, this is Elliot speaking, how can I help you?" Elliot could've asked that question in his sleep at this point, just due to how his dad forced politeness and businesslike talk only when Elliot answered the phone โ his dad didn't want a bad reputation, whatever that meant. He listened to the person on the other end of the phone, someone asking if Vincent could train their kid. Elliot's dad had a policy in place that he wouldn't train anybody under the age of sixteen for actual boxing, and upon hearing that the kid in question was twelve, Elliot immediately explained that. The person was understanding โ wasn't that quite a lovely surprise โ and hung up the phone, Elliot sinking back into his chair as he pulled his phone back out of his pocket.
He glanced up again, watching the training going on within the ring, trying to ignore the thoughts that began racing in the back of his mind as he watched Wren โ shaking his head to almost rid himself of them, he glanced back at the books, trying to make sense of his dad's writing. His phone buzzed in his hands, a text coming in from one of his college friends asking about a worksheet that was due tomorrow. He rolled his eyes slightly, his leg beginning to mindlessly bounce.
He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the once neatly done curls. Elliot hated getting like this โ he barely even knew Wren, and here he was pining after him like some lovesick fool. It was pathetic.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"oh, dear sweet jesus christ. kill me now."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ his gym
w/ vincent, jackson, elliot
He had been. Elliot had been totally staring at him. He watched him knock that asshole onto the ground. The pang of pride in Wren's chest caught him off guard. He half-listened to his coach and nodded blindly, a hand coming up to ruffle through his own hair. He had to get back on track. It never ended well when he went into training unfocused. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, willing his headache and that sudden bizarre wave of elation to fuck off. "Yes, coach," he promised through the beginnings of a dumb smile. He turned and jogged a couple of feet away to give Jackson the opportunity to get off the floor. He used the opportunity to wipe the expression off his face. The feeling wasn't dissimilar to the feeling he got when he won a match exactly the way he wanted to, so he assumed that was it. Just him displaying his... Prowess. That was a lame word, wasn't it?
This time he kept his strikes nice and legal. Maybe nice was a bad way to put it. But regardless, he didn't get yelled at by Vincent again. In fact, he earned an approving grunt every so often and that always shot Wren's motivation up to the ceiling. They went for his full amount of training time; something he thought smugly after glancing at the few irritated students scattered around the gym, waiting for their turn with the legendary fighter. Wren had worked up quite a sweat by the time Vincent lifted a hand and told him they were done for the day, but he still had to stay in the gym to stretch back out and fit in a workout to cool down. He voiced his obedience and turned to jog off towards the receptionist's desk.
Still breathless, he rested his forearms on the countertop. "Hey. I need to set up my next training time with your dad." He smirked. He couldn't help finding the fact that Elliot was working for his dad a little funny. In Wren's head, family businesses were limited to bakeries and restaurants. Cute places; places that generally didn't involve watching your dad beat the shit out of a lineup of young adults for the sake of a craft. Elliot didn't even box.
w/ vincent, jackson, elliot
He had been. Elliot had been totally staring at him. He watched him knock that asshole onto the ground. The pang of pride in Wren's chest caught him off guard. He half-listened to his coach and nodded blindly, a hand coming up to ruffle through his own hair. He had to get back on track. It never ended well when he went into training unfocused. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, willing his headache and that sudden bizarre wave of elation to fuck off. "Yes, coach," he promised through the beginnings of a dumb smile. He turned and jogged a couple of feet away to give Jackson the opportunity to get off the floor. He used the opportunity to wipe the expression off his face. The feeling wasn't dissimilar to the feeling he got when he won a match exactly the way he wanted to, so he assumed that was it. Just him displaying his... Prowess. That was a lame word, wasn't it?
This time he kept his strikes nice and legal. Maybe nice was a bad way to put it. But regardless, he didn't get yelled at by Vincent again. In fact, he earned an approving grunt every so often and that always shot Wren's motivation up to the ceiling. They went for his full amount of training time; something he thought smugly after glancing at the few irritated students scattered around the gym, waiting for their turn with the legendary fighter. Wren had worked up quite a sweat by the time Vincent lifted a hand and told him they were done for the day, but he still had to stay in the gym to stretch back out and fit in a workout to cool down. He voiced his obedience and turned to jog off towards the receptionist's desk.
Still breathless, he rested his forearms on the countertop. "Hey. I need to set up my next training time with your dad." He smirked. He couldn't help finding the fact that Elliot was working for his dad a little funny. In Wren's head, family businesses were limited to bakeries and restaurants. Cute places; places that generally didn't involve watching your dad beat the shit out of a lineup of young adults for the sake of a craft. Elliot didn't even box.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. nervous.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. vincent o'malley + wren qwastenaya + jackson michaels[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot really wasn't trying to get on the bad side of any of these boxers that came to the gym โ especially considering that he was only 5'9" and 170 pounds soaking wet. As some more people came filing into the gym, he marked them down, giving them a wave or a small hello. He kept on glancing at Wren and Jackson, huffing softly to himself. If he was going to keep on pining like this, he really needed to get himself together.
The time slowly began to tick by, and he didn't realize that Wren and Jackson's training session was over until Wren was standing right in front of him, leaning on the desk. Elliot went a little wide eyed for a second, just cause he surprised him, before nodding slowly. "Uh, yeah. Did he want you to come back tomorrow or wait another day?" He asked, pulling the book open that had all the times for his dad's training sessions before looking up at Wren to make eye contact.
He really hoped it wasn't obvious just how flustered he was at the moment. Despite the chilliness the gym held, he suddenly felt really warm, glancing back down at the book. There seemed to be an opening around the same time tomorrow, which was surprising to Elliot, especially considering just how in demand his dad was, especially since this was Vegas, and people were constantly searching to make a name for themselves here. Wren was definitely making his mark, though.
"There's an opening for the same time tomorrow if you wanted," Elliot started, scanning over the book once again. "There's also an opening for two days from now." Elliot couldn't even count the amount of times he's told his dad that they should turn to some sort of technology for their scheduling system, but every time he brought it up, Vincent would refuse. Something about being old fashioned. Elliot didn't get it.
He really hoped Wren wouldn't mention something about him staring at him โ what would he even be able to say? Elliot didn't know, but what he did know was that he would definitely be wishing for death if the topic was even brought up. He's honestly kinda wishing for death right at this moment, and just hoped it wasn't obvious.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"can i make an appointment for death, please? 4:30?"[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the gym
w/ elliot
It was pretty obvious how flustered Elliot was. Lucky for him, Wren was a complete dumbass. He was only curious about the other's flushed appearance for about half a second before his impending training hell was brought up. He gave a soft, dramatic groan, leaned back from the counter, and ran both hands through his sweaty hair. "Ugh. Tomorrow... He's probably going to work me like this for the next week after that stunt. Fucking Nii," he grumbled mostly to himself, eyes trained on the counter. When he glanced up, he finally noticed how the man startled at his gaze. Weird. He got that a lot from the smaller man. The boxer moved back to lean against the counter with his upper body, eyes not breaking their connection now that there was clearly something off between them. Wren never got this kind of nervous energy from anyone unless it was a guy that wanted to fight him or a girl that wanted to fuck him. And he lived by that.
This was a guy. And a pretty tiny one at that. Who also just watched him spend an hour punch a much bigger man into the ring. All around, a confusing mix of things. Well, it actually wasn't too confusing, but for a closeted budding bisexual who also happened to stupid, like Wren, it was very confusing. "Mark me down for both." He tilted his head to the side and searched Elliot's expression. With the arch of a brow, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a playful yet unnerving smile. "What, you wanna spar or something? All you've been doing is sizing me up since I started training here." Only this moron would catch someone checking him out and decide the testosterone level of the other party meant it was a challenge. "I know you don't box so we can do whatever you want. I've got experience in most things." It was a cocky sentence and definitely untrue, but those two things rarely stopped him from opening his mouth.
w/ elliot
It was pretty obvious how flustered Elliot was. Lucky for him, Wren was a complete dumbass. He was only curious about the other's flushed appearance for about half a second before his impending training hell was brought up. He gave a soft, dramatic groan, leaned back from the counter, and ran both hands through his sweaty hair. "Ugh. Tomorrow... He's probably going to work me like this for the next week after that stunt. Fucking Nii," he grumbled mostly to himself, eyes trained on the counter. When he glanced up, he finally noticed how the man startled at his gaze. Weird. He got that a lot from the smaller man. The boxer moved back to lean against the counter with his upper body, eyes not breaking their connection now that there was clearly something off between them. Wren never got this kind of nervous energy from anyone unless it was a guy that wanted to fight him or a girl that wanted to fuck him. And he lived by that.
This was a guy. And a pretty tiny one at that. Who also just watched him spend an hour punch a much bigger man into the ring. All around, a confusing mix of things. Well, it actually wasn't too confusing, but for a closeted budding bisexual who also happened to stupid, like Wren, it was very confusing. "Mark me down for both." He tilted his head to the side and searched Elliot's expression. With the arch of a brow, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a playful yet unnerving smile. "What, you wanna spar or something? All you've been doing is sizing me up since I started training here." Only this moron would catch someone checking him out and decide the testosterone level of the other party meant it was a challenge. "I know you don't box so we can do whatever you want. I've got experience in most things." It was a cocky sentence and definitely untrue, but those two things rarely stopped him from opening his mouth.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. defensive, kinda wants to die.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot was really trying his hardest not to stare. But when Wren leaned back from the counter, Elliot glanced down at the man's throat, immediately bringing his eyes back up to his face when he started talking. Elliot had no idea who this Nii guy was, but he figured he was maybe the reason Wren showed up later โ Elliot didn't judge, that was for sure. He nodded, marking down the dates and times for Wren when he was told to mark him down for both.
He then proceeded to choke on his own spit when Wren asked him if he wanted to spar, looking up at him with an incredulous look on his face, his cheeks tinged red. "Iโ I'm sorry?" He sputtered out, his mind immediately going places it shouldn't have been going. God, what kind of mess did he get into now? He had no idea how he was gonna crawl his way out of this one. Oh, dear god. "Noโ I don't want to fight you. Have you seen me?" He figured he could make that comment, feeling his defenses slowly begin to rise up.
Elliot's never been good with confrontation. It was always funny to him, when he thought about it. His father was the great Vincent O'Malley, world renowned boxer and probably the epitome of masculinity, and people expected his kid to be the same. Yet here Elliot was, everything his dad wasn't. It was probably the root of all his greatest insecurities, if he really thought about it.
"I don't want to fight you, and I haven't beenโ sizing you up," oh, God, he was rambling again, "so I don't really know where you got that idea. I don't want to fight you. You'd crush me like a bug." That's what his mouth was saying. His brain, on the other hand, was telling him to say Wren, I definitely don't want to fight you, but there is something else physical we could do if you're catching my drift โ Elliot wished he could make his brain just stop.
He shot a glance over towards his dad, who was too focused on training another recruit to notice anything going on over by the desk. "I don't know where you got the idea I was sizing you up or that I wanted to fight you. Just know it's not true." Jesus, Christ, Elliot, stop talking. Shut up.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"anyone know the nearest hole i can go die in?"[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the gym
w/ elliot
The smile fell from Wren's face. He furrowed his brow in almost adorably genuine confusion when the other boy seemed so... Viscerally shocked by the conclusion he had drawn. Was his face ever not red? Maybe this was some sort of condition that Wren was looking far too closely into. He pulled himself even further over the edge of the counter in order to rake his eyes over Elliot in his entirety. "Yup. I've definitely seen you," he grinned at the other man in a way that might have been meant to be reassuring, but just came across mischievous. The plot the boxer was coming up with was written all over his face. "I try not to underestimate anyone. There are definitely martial arts out there that would allow you to throw me across that ring." Even he didn't believe that, but he laid it on thick. "Even if you are actually pretty fucking tiny, you're right." He scoffed as he finally pushed himself back onto his own side of the counter.
"Ok, damn. Coulda just said no," Wren grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. "But you don't expect me to believe that you haven't been watching me fight for the past two weeks. It's like every time I happen to look over here, you're staring. Lookin' all angsty and shit." It was actually a miracle this boy hadn't clued in yet. "... I definitely think you should try to fight me. Come on! It'll be fun, I promise. I could teach you a couple of things. You can't tell me your dad hasn't taught you some self-defence." Honestly, the idea of wrestling the boss' kid into the ground just sounded like an all-around appealing idea. But not for the same reasons Elliot definitely also thought that would be a good idea.
w/ elliot
The smile fell from Wren's face. He furrowed his brow in almost adorably genuine confusion when the other boy seemed so... Viscerally shocked by the conclusion he had drawn. Was his face ever not red? Maybe this was some sort of condition that Wren was looking far too closely into. He pulled himself even further over the edge of the counter in order to rake his eyes over Elliot in his entirety. "Yup. I've definitely seen you," he grinned at the other man in a way that might have been meant to be reassuring, but just came across mischievous. The plot the boxer was coming up with was written all over his face. "I try not to underestimate anyone. There are definitely martial arts out there that would allow you to throw me across that ring." Even he didn't believe that, but he laid it on thick. "Even if you are actually pretty fucking tiny, you're right." He scoffed as he finally pushed himself back onto his own side of the counter.
"Ok, damn. Coulda just said no," Wren grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. "But you don't expect me to believe that you haven't been watching me fight for the past two weeks. It's like every time I happen to look over here, you're staring. Lookin' all angsty and shit." It was actually a miracle this boy hadn't clued in yet. "... I definitely think you should try to fight me. Come on! It'll be fun, I promise. I could teach you a couple of things. You can't tell me your dad hasn't taught you some self-defence." Honestly, the idea of wrestling the boss' kid into the ground just sounded like an all-around appealing idea. But not for the same reasons Elliot definitely also thought that would be a good idea.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. defensive, kinda getting irritated.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot shifted almost uncomfortably in his seat when Wren looked him up and down, before laughing slightly at his comment about martial arts. "Yeah, wellโ I doubt that," he said with a raised brow, some of his normal color slowly coming back to his face. Thank God. At the comment of him being right though, Elliot knew that he was right, that him fighting against Wren was a disaster waiting to happen, but he still felt a twinge of offense in his chest.
"I'm not going to try to fight you, so quit asking." He grumbled, shaking his head once again. Was this some lame attempt at flirting? Was Elliot thinking too deeply about this? "My dad would probably try to kill you if you fought me." Despite how much it genuinely pained him to say that (he's nineteen years old and still having to use the "my dad would beat you up" excuse, pathetic), it was true.
"I don't look angsty, thank you very much. My dad never let me fight, so I like watching other people do it." That was the truth. Even when Elliot begged to do it when he was younger, for his dad to teach him something, anything about boxing, his dad always told him no, and never really told him why. Maybe because he didn't want something happening to Elliot, too.
"Why do you want to fight me so bad?" That unfortunately came out a little louder than planned, and his dad glanced over at them, Elliot waving him off. He didn't need his dad getting involved with this. "He might've taught me some self defense, but I'm not fighting you to prove a point. I'll stop staring if that's what you want."
Elliot had to admit, the appeal of finally being able to learn something about boxing was telling him to just accept his offer, but he knew he had to say no. He wasn't sure why Wren was being so adamant about this.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"please, earth, do me a favor and swallow me whole."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the gym
w/ elliot
"Your dad already tries to kill me," Wren mumbled with a pointed glance back at his coach, nose crinkling in a mix of negative emotions. His train of thought about the lameness of the walking legend was interrupted by Elliot speaking some bullshit. "Oh, dude," he turned back to face the younger boy, eyebrows lowered incredulously. "I don't think I've ever laid eyes upon a more angsty looking person. Say what you want, but don't straight up lie, man." And then Elliot just had to go and escalate. Wren's eyes widened when he raised his voice, shoulders tensing and lips setting into a familiar scowl as he felt his coach's eyes suddenly burning into his back. He didn't know much about Elliot or his coach's personal beliefs at all, but what he did know was that the other man was very deliberately outside the boxing world. He hadn't offered to coach him for some upcoming fight; he was just messing around. He really didn't want to have to defend himself from Vincent, let alone in front of the entire gym. He didn't spare a glance behind him. "Would you relax? I'm just bored with beating all your dad's other students. Thought you seemed entertaining." At least the guy admitted that he knew how to fight.
He shook off the hollow feeling in his chest at the prospect of Elliot not staring at him as he gave a dramatic sigh. He stepped away from the desk and detached his shirt from his chest, cringing at the way it stuck for a second. "Fine. I'm gonna go run a bit, shower, and change. You have about half an hour to decide that you're gonna fight me." He shot the other boy a wink before turning and strolling off towards the treadmills.
w/ elliot
"Your dad already tries to kill me," Wren mumbled with a pointed glance back at his coach, nose crinkling in a mix of negative emotions. His train of thought about the lameness of the walking legend was interrupted by Elliot speaking some bullshit. "Oh, dude," he turned back to face the younger boy, eyebrows lowered incredulously. "I don't think I've ever laid eyes upon a more angsty looking person. Say what you want, but don't straight up lie, man." And then Elliot just had to go and escalate. Wren's eyes widened when he raised his voice, shoulders tensing and lips setting into a familiar scowl as he felt his coach's eyes suddenly burning into his back. He didn't know much about Elliot or his coach's personal beliefs at all, but what he did know was that the other man was very deliberately outside the boxing world. He hadn't offered to coach him for some upcoming fight; he was just messing around. He really didn't want to have to defend himself from Vincent, let alone in front of the entire gym. He didn't spare a glance behind him. "Would you relax? I'm just bored with beating all your dad's other students. Thought you seemed entertaining." At least the guy admitted that he knew how to fight.
He shook off the hollow feeling in his chest at the prospect of Elliot not staring at him as he gave a dramatic sigh. He stepped away from the desk and detached his shirt from his chest, cringing at the way it stuck for a second. "Fine. I'm gonna go run a bit, shower, and change. You have about half an hour to decide that you're gonna fight me." He shot the other boy a wink before turning and strolling off towards the treadmills.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. defeated.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot couldn't help but laugh slightly at the admission that his dad already tries to kill Wren, because he couldn't disagree with that, he'd been watching them fight for almost a month now. But at the insinuation Elliot was lying, he just raised an eyebrow, not sure where Wren could've possibly gotten the information that he was angsty, but whatever. That wasn't the important argument right now. At the scowl that formed on Wren's face, Elliot swallowed a little heavily, a blush beginning to creep up his neck. He really wished people would stop looking at him like they wanted to murder him.
"This is me being relaxed," he retorted, before laughing a little at his statement. "If you're bored of beating them, you're definitely gonna be bored with beating me. Seriously, no, I'm not fighting youโ" He sighed heavily when he realized his words wouldn't be heard, rubbing at his temples slightly. His dad's voice cut through the music for a second, saying something to his current trainee to think, not just act, and man, if Elliot could really take that advice right now.
When Wren said that he was going to go do something else, Elliot let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Fine. I'm telling you, Wren, I'm not fighting youโ" He called after him, grumbling slightly under his breath as he watched him go. He slumped back into his seat, letting out the tension he didn't know was in his shoulders.
Would he actually fight Wren? No. Absolutely not. Elliot might know how to defend himself, but he absolutely did not know how to fight. Was he serious? Did Wren really think Ellie would fight him, especially with his dad within ten feet? He didn't even have clothes to change into if he were to fight the older man. Which he wasn't. Absolutely not.
Ellie watched the clock, the minutes seeming to tick by almost agonizingly so. He hated this. His dad had finished with his trainee and was making his way over to the desk, Elliot realizing he has to explain himself. Oh, dear God.
"So. What was that you said about not fighting Wren?" His dad asked, an eyebrow raised as he leaned on the desk.
"He was joking, dad. He wasn't actually going to fight me." He wasn't sure why he was being so defensive over Wren all of a sudden. His dad only raised his eyebrow a little bit higher at the response, shaking his head and walking back towards the ring. Elliot knew this was a conversation they'd definitely be continuing at home, something that Elliot was not looking forward to in the slightest.
He glanced at his phone again, only seeing that twenty minutes had passed, ten minutes until Wren came back. He wasn't sure why he was so anxious about this. That wink Wren gave him kept replaying in his head, and now he just really wanted to die.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"why me? seriously, of all people, why me?"[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the gym
w/ elliot
As soon as he fell into his rhythm of running, the fighter's head completely cleared. That was the beautiful thing about working out for Wren. No matter how awful a day or how chaotic his social circle might be at the time; as soon as he fell into a headspace of effort and endurance, he'd feel like he could take on anything. A small smile worked its way across his features as he kicked up the speed of the treadmill. His heart rate had plummeted after he stopped training and wasted time with Elliot, so this was going to be less of a cooldown and more of a whole other workout, but that was fine. He knew he was going to hate himself tomorrow when he showed up to another training session all sore, but that didn't really sound like a Today Wren problem. Besides he needed the emotional space to plot how he was going to convince that boy to fight him.
Wren never worried himself with examining his own intentions and this time wasn't any different. He wasn't bothered by this urge he had to spar with Elliot so there wasn't any point in deconstructing it. Obviously the boy was nervous about his father, so he wouldn't agree to it if they were in the gym. But any place with a carpet would do; Wren didn't intend on actually trying. He would just have to invite the man out, leave out the fact that he wasn't giving up on their sparring session, and manipulate him into it while they were out. Maybe after getting a few drinks into him; no harm done. And Wren's impulse would be fulfilled. He grinned to himself and cranked up the speed again. Why was this prospect getting him so hype?
He hadn't lied when he said he was bored with his current sparring partners so that was probably it. A breath of fresh air. A new person to show off for.
--
Ten minutes later, the treadmill ended his twenty-minute workout and Wren hopped off. He sanitized the equipment before jogging off to the change rooms, giving Elliot a quick salute before disappearing around the corner. He took an unnecessarily hot shower, changed into his street clothes, and didn't bother drying his hair. He reappeared next to the younger boy's desk, all fresh and happy. "My friend Kahil is throwing a party tonight. You should come. I'll give you a ride." He smiled as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, clearly not about to take no for an answer.
w/ elliot
As soon as he fell into his rhythm of running, the fighter's head completely cleared. That was the beautiful thing about working out for Wren. No matter how awful a day or how chaotic his social circle might be at the time; as soon as he fell into a headspace of effort and endurance, he'd feel like he could take on anything. A small smile worked its way across his features as he kicked up the speed of the treadmill. His heart rate had plummeted after he stopped training and wasted time with Elliot, so this was going to be less of a cooldown and more of a whole other workout, but that was fine. He knew he was going to hate himself tomorrow when he showed up to another training session all sore, but that didn't really sound like a Today Wren problem. Besides he needed the emotional space to plot how he was going to convince that boy to fight him.
Wren never worried himself with examining his own intentions and this time wasn't any different. He wasn't bothered by this urge he had to spar with Elliot so there wasn't any point in deconstructing it. Obviously the boy was nervous about his father, so he wouldn't agree to it if they were in the gym. But any place with a carpet would do; Wren didn't intend on actually trying. He would just have to invite the man out, leave out the fact that he wasn't giving up on their sparring session, and manipulate him into it while they were out. Maybe after getting a few drinks into him; no harm done. And Wren's impulse would be fulfilled. He grinned to himself and cranked up the speed again. Why was this prospect getting him so hype?
He hadn't lied when he said he was bored with his current sparring partners so that was probably it. A breath of fresh air. A new person to show off for.
--
Ten minutes later, the treadmill ended his twenty-minute workout and Wren hopped off. He sanitized the equipment before jogging off to the change rooms, giving Elliot a quick salute before disappearing around the corner. He took an unnecessarily hot shower, changed into his street clothes, and didn't bother drying his hair. He reappeared next to the younger boy's desk, all fresh and happy. "My friend Kahil is throwing a party tonight. You should come. I'll give you a ride." He smiled as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, clearly not about to take no for an answer.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. ready to go home.
LOCATION. o'malley gym.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot had his head in his hands at this point, knowing that when his dad was done with the trainee he currently was working with that Elliot would be done for the night and his dad would take care of cleaning up. It'd be a lie if he said that he was used to his dad sometimes spending the night on the couch at the gym, inside his dad's office, when nights got too hard for him to sleep in their house โ which Elliot could understand. He felt the same way.
So he wasn't sure if he'd be expecting his dad home tonight. He never really did.
When Wren appeared next to his desk again, Elliot looked up at him with a look of almost intense resignation, appreciative that he at least smelled somewhat better than he did earlier. At the invitation to a party, Elliot's eyes widened a little bit, admittedly a bit excited at the prospect of going to a party. He hadn't been to a party in a long time, so the invite was definitely appealing. But being invited by Wren... that was a whole other story.
He wasn't sure why Wren was so keen to get to know him. Admittedly, Elliot wanted to get to know the man just a little bit better too, but that was neither here not there. "A party. Thrown by your friend." He started, leaning against his hand a little bit. "What if I don't wanna go to this party?" That was a lie, he definitely wanted to go to this party. He hadn't had a drink in so long, he couldn't really remember what it felt like to get fucked up. He needed it.
"And what if I don't want you driving me there?" He really hoped his dad couldn't hear the conversation that was happening right now. He didn't need another lecture about staying away from boxers, something Elliot still didn't understand. Whatever. He knew he was asking too many questions, but considering Wren didn't look too keen about the possibility of Elliot saying no, he decided to just mess with him for a little bit longer.
"Fine. I'll go. On a couple of conditions, Wrenโ if I wanna go home, you'll drive me home, and you've gotta be here on time tomorrow. I'm not gonna indulge you in going to this party if it'll end up pissing my dad off." He gave him a pointed look when he said that, but it was true. Elliot didn't have to worry about being here early the next day, especially considering that he didn't have classes and Saturday's were his days off from the gym, so he had nothing but time.
"Sound like a plan?" He asked, a little smile on his face. "You can pick me up at 64 Helmhurst Drive. Here's my number, text me at least 45 minutes before you come pick me up. I gotta get ready." He scrawled his phone number down on a piece of paper, ripping it off and handing it to him. He was probably going to regret this, but at this moment, he didn't really care.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"am i gonna regret this? god, i sure hope not."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the gym
w/ elliot
To be completely honest, the only reason the fighter offereddemanded to drive Elliot was that he didn't want the other boy to have any reason to refuse whatever drink Wren decided would look good in his hand. So when it was suddenly brought up, he realized he absolutely did not have a justification for that one. So, like the genius he was, he ignored it. "I said should," the fighter clarified in an admittedly very misleading fashion. The way he'd said it definitely did not point to Elliot having any sort of choice. "And you do want to go to this party. Because you're a young man with needs and desires. That came out weird. You know what I mean." It was kind of amazing how he took something so clearly awkward and made it sound casual. It didn't even linger in the air. Whack.
He glanced behind himself to gauge the distance between them and Vincent: far enough, plus he was busy coaching some twig. Wren couldn't help but snort before turning back to Elliot, not even trying to wipe the judgement from his face. He shivered when Elliot said his name and didn't have time to be alarmed about it. Those conditions were so painfully simple, he couldn't help the triumphant grin that took over his features. "Done and done. That's a lot of time to get ready, sweetheart." He plucked the piece of paper from Elliot's hand and shoved it in his front pocket. "I'll see you then. Don't work too hard." Another wink. And then he was out the door.
His shitty apartment was only about a half an hour walk from the gym, but it kind of depressed him to be there. So he just changed into something more party-appropriate (read: muscle-hugging) and texted Kahil to make sure he could borrow one of his cars to go pick up Elliot. His friend didn't bother asking who he was or why Wren was bringing him: he'd meet him at the party and then it would probably become obvious one way or another. Kahil's place was a solid hour walk from Wren's and he took it slow, getting there at about 6:30. He knew the redhead's dad wouldn't be there and so the boy didn't hesitate in simply opening the door to the impressive house to snatch the keys for the Mercedes from the foyer. He wasn't sure where Kahil was, but the place was big enough that it would've been annoying to go look for him. So he didn't bother. But from the set-up in the main living room and the music already playing at a pretty high volume, he knew the night was going to be fun.
"omw." That'd do it.
He ducked into the car and pressed the button, sighing gently with adoration when the thing purred to life. He'd never get tired of leeching off Kahil. Elliot's place was a surprisingly long way from the party according to Wren's phone, but he didn't mind. He'd drive this car to the ends of the earth, especially with his music blasting from those alarmingly high-quality speakers. It took him half an hour to pull up outside the receptionist's house. He knew the boy had said forty-five minutes, but Wren decided it was out of his hands. He tapped the horn. Because he's an asshole.
w/ elliot
To be completely honest, the only reason the fighter offered
He glanced behind himself to gauge the distance between them and Vincent: far enough, plus he was busy coaching some twig. Wren couldn't help but snort before turning back to Elliot, not even trying to wipe the judgement from his face. He shivered when Elliot said his name and didn't have time to be alarmed about it. Those conditions were so painfully simple, he couldn't help the triumphant grin that took over his features. "Done and done. That's a lot of time to get ready, sweetheart." He plucked the piece of paper from Elliot's hand and shoved it in his front pocket. "I'll see you then. Don't work too hard." Another wink. And then he was out the door.
His shitty apartment was only about a half an hour walk from the gym, but it kind of depressed him to be there. So he just changed into something more party-appropriate (read: muscle-hugging) and texted Kahil to make sure he could borrow one of his cars to go pick up Elliot. His friend didn't bother asking who he was or why Wren was bringing him: he'd meet him at the party and then it would probably become obvious one way or another. Kahil's place was a solid hour walk from Wren's and he took it slow, getting there at about 6:30. He knew the redhead's dad wouldn't be there and so the boy didn't hesitate in simply opening the door to the impressive house to snatch the keys for the Mercedes from the foyer. He wasn't sure where Kahil was, but the place was big enough that it would've been annoying to go look for him. So he didn't bother. But from the set-up in the main living room and the music already playing at a pretty high volume, he knew the night was going to be fun.
"omw." That'd do it.
He ducked into the car and pressed the button, sighing gently with adoration when the thing purred to life. He'd never get tired of leeching off Kahil. Elliot's place was a surprisingly long way from the party according to Wren's phone, but he didn't mind. He'd drive this car to the ends of the earth, especially with his music blasting from those alarmingly high-quality speakers. It took him half an hour to pull up outside the receptionist's house. He knew the boy had said forty-five minutes, but Wren decided it was out of his hands. He tapped the horn. Because he's an asshole.
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astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. getting ready to party, baby.
LOCATION. o'malley gym -> o'malley house.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot had to admit, Wren wasn't wrong about the fact that Elliot really wanted to go to this party, and he let out a little laugh when he corrected himself. When Wren glanced behind him, Elliot shot a glance towards his dad, suddenly thankful that his dad wasn't paying attention to the conversation happening over at the desk. He turned to look Wren in the eyes again, before shrugging slightly.
Elliot's face flushed bright red at the nickname of sweetheart, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the name. "Yeah, yeahโ I'll see you later." He said, rolling his eyes. As he watched Wren walk away, the mild severity of the situation slowly began to sink in. He was going to a party. With Wren. And was probably going to get so drunk he wouldn't be able to remember a thing.
The time couldn't have gone by any slower before Elliot's shift was over. He waved a goodbye to his dad before walking out the door of the gym, heading towards his car. The drive to his house was an almost agonizingly slow one in the evening Las Vegas traffic, but he made it to his house in ample time, pulling into the garage and making sure the door closed before walking into the house. He climbed up the stairs to his room, his thoughts racing about a million different things.
His backpack was deposited on the usual spot on the floor it found itself in before he pulled his shirt off, going straight to his closet to find something different to wear. This had to have been the hardest he'd ever thought about what he should wear, and he really didn't want to think about the implications of that โ but he ended up settling on a grey t shirt and a pair of jeans, and he just hoped it wouldn't look too lame. God. Why was he thinking so hard about this?
He heard his phone go off inside his room, and when he went to check it, it was from an unknown number saying "omw." and Elliot just had to assume that was Wren. He didn't know why his heart rate picked up. He didn't want to talk about it.
Elliot spared one last glance in the mirror to make sure he didn't look entirely stupid, before heading into his bathroom and trying to make himself look somewhat presentable. He was in the middle of fixing his hair for the tenth time when he heard a car horn outside, glancing at his watch. He headed over to his window, seeing that it was Wren in the driveway, Elliot immediately trying to ignore the way his heart rate picked up.
He made sure all his lights were off and that both his wallet and his phones were in his pockets, before heading down the stairs and quickly beginning to pull his shoes on, cursing under his breath when he almost fell over. He finally got them on, and opened the front door to his house, making sure it was locked behind him, and walked straight to Wren's car. He steeled himself before opening the door, hoping his face wasn't bright red.
As he slid into the passenger seat, he looked over at Wren, immediately admiring his outfit change. Oh, oh shit. "Hey. Thanks for picking me up." He said, putting his seatbelt on. He really hoped he wasn't going to regret this.
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[div class=quote]"if only my face could stop revealing what i'm thinking."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the o'malley house -> kahil & reylin's
w/ elliot
The fighter messed with his phone as he waited for Elliot to emerge, switching from song to song and only growing more anxious when he realized none of them had the right vibe for their trip back to Kahil's. It was a solid block of time and Wren was determined to get the other boy in the right headspace for a night of partying, warming up to Wren, and then drunkenly wrestling next to the pong table. He knew Kahil and his other friend Levi would get a massive kick out of it and that got Wren really fired up. Kahil had been around since before anyone even knew he had an uber-rich dad and Wren had never needed to work to keep his friendship. Levi, however, was a completely different story. He was everything Wren tried to be in a lot of ways and that meant his approval was something the other man constantly sought after, much like everyone else that came into contact with the writer. Though, obviously, Wren wouldn't admit this to himself until much later in life. For now, he tricked himself into thinking that constantly crafting his decisions and opinions around what he was sure his friends would like was something that everyone did. And if they didn't, they should start.
One thing that Levi always seemed to enjoy was taking the rich ones down a peg. Kahil was different; he grew up somewhere between poor and middle-class so Levi was okay with him. But the social circle the redhead now occupied meant that the crowd at his parties had very quickly shifted from the gangbangers of their childhood neighbourhoods to the bougie dumbasses that lived around Kahil's new place. It made Wren unbelievably uncomfortable. Levi enjoyed it in a sick way. So how fucking fantastic would it be if Wren brought him the son of Vincent O'Malley. Obviously he wouldn't do anything too humiliating to the guy; he didn't want Vincent to actually slaughter him. Just mess with him a bit like any group of friends did; Wren would get points from Levi as long as he came out of the evening looking cool.
The sound of a door slamming caught Wren's attention and he glanced up from his phone, absentmindedly hitting blackbear's chateau before shoving the device into the cup holder. He gave Elliot a grin. "No problem. I like driving." He put the car into drive and pulled a u-turn to get out of Elliot's neighbourhood. "You can connect your phone if you want; I can't really DJ while I'm driving-- hey! How old are you by the way? I realized on the way over here that I don't even know if you're legal or not."
w/ elliot
The fighter messed with his phone as he waited for Elliot to emerge, switching from song to song and only growing more anxious when he realized none of them had the right vibe for their trip back to Kahil's. It was a solid block of time and Wren was determined to get the other boy in the right headspace for a night of partying, warming up to Wren, and then drunkenly wrestling next to the pong table. He knew Kahil and his other friend Levi would get a massive kick out of it and that got Wren really fired up. Kahil had been around since before anyone even knew he had an uber-rich dad and Wren had never needed to work to keep his friendship. Levi, however, was a completely different story. He was everything Wren tried to be in a lot of ways and that meant his approval was something the other man constantly sought after, much like everyone else that came into contact with the writer. Though, obviously, Wren wouldn't admit this to himself until much later in life. For now, he tricked himself into thinking that constantly crafting his decisions and opinions around what he was sure his friends would like was something that everyone did. And if they didn't, they should start.
One thing that Levi always seemed to enjoy was taking the rich ones down a peg. Kahil was different; he grew up somewhere between poor and middle-class so Levi was okay with him. But the social circle the redhead now occupied meant that the crowd at his parties had very quickly shifted from the gangbangers of their childhood neighbourhoods to the bougie dumbasses that lived around Kahil's new place. It made Wren unbelievably uncomfortable. Levi enjoyed it in a sick way. So how fucking fantastic would it be if Wren brought him the son of Vincent O'Malley. Obviously he wouldn't do anything too humiliating to the guy; he didn't want Vincent to actually slaughter him. Just mess with him a bit like any group of friends did; Wren would get points from Levi as long as he came out of the evening looking cool.
The sound of a door slamming caught Wren's attention and he glanced up from his phone, absentmindedly hitting blackbear's chateau before shoving the device into the cup holder. He gave Elliot a grin. "No problem. I like driving." He put the car into drive and pulled a u-turn to get out of Elliot's neighbourhood. "You can connect your phone if you want; I can't really DJ while I'm driving-- hey! How old are you by the way? I realized on the way over here that I don't even know if you're legal or not."
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. nervous, antsy.
LOCATION. on the way to kahil & reylin's.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]As Wren began to drive out of Elliot's neighborhood, the ball of nervousness in his stomach began to grow a little bit larger, his knee slowly beginning to bounce up and down as the Las Vegas skyline zoomed past them. He shook his head at the offer of DJ'ing their drive, knowing his music taste definitely wouldn't be Wren's type (at least what he assumed), before whipping his head to the side to look at him incredulously at his question.
"I'mโ I'm nineteen," he started, before breathing out slowly, shaking his head a little. "So I'm not old enough to drink, I don't really care. But I'm legal. If that's what you care about." That might've come out a little snippy. But, again, Elliot didn't really care. He couldn't help but feel like he was being invited to this party to prove a point, whatever that point was. He turned his head away from Wren, going to look out the window again as they made the drive to wherever the party was going to be.
"Where is this party going to be, exactly?" He asked, tapping his fingers against his leg to the beat of the song playing, smiling a little at the song choice. If Wren was his ride, and if he didn't want his dad knowing about the party, it didn't really do much for Elliot to know where they were going, because it wouldn't be like he'd be able to tell anybody where he was anyways. A sigh left his lips at the prospect, shaking his head a little before turning to face Wren again.
He took a second to just admire him โ which he really didn't want to think about why that was happening โ before opening his mouth to speak again. "Wren, I was being serious about what I said earlier about you showing up tomorrow to the gym on time. I seriously โ I don't want my dad finding out about this. Okay? Seriously." The mild edge in his voice was kinda surprising to him, swallowing a little to hopefully get rid of the nervousness he felt. How stupid would it sound though if he told Wren just why his dad couldn't find about this, shifting slightly in his seat as he stared out the window again.
The sun had slowly began to set in Vegas, Elliot knowing the weather was going to be cool when they got out of the car, almost regretting his outfit choice, wishing he had brought a jacket or something. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. He just hoped he wouldn't regret this come morning.
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[div class=quote]"what did i just get myself into?"[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ the o'malley house -> kahil & reylin's
w/ elliot
Wren snorted abruptly at that answer, eyebrows shooting up as he brought a hand to cover his mouth. Damn, if that hadn't been a total loss of composure. His hand fell back away from his face as he glanced over at the other boy and smirked, tongue sliding over his lower lip briefly. "I did mean legal to drink. I don't know what you're referencing." Another incredulous scoff fell from his lips as he turned back to pay attention to the highway merging situation. The fact that he was underage wasn't really a problem. Most of the people there would be above age and cops tended to avoid these kinds of parties anyway. That was definitely an upside to the shift in demographics. The men in blue didn't fuck with the kids who likely had 3 different terrifying lawyers on speed-dial at any given moment. He'd only asked because he was genuinely curious.
"It's--" Wren never really got the opportunity to familiarize himself with Kahil's area. It wasn't the kind of neighbourhood that had weekly barbeques. Everyone's house was tucked away behind hedges and mile-long driveways, not to mention the gates. Wren just listened to Google Maps; got in and out before someone could call the cops on him for walking. Plus he didn't really feel like exposing his embarrassing navigation challenges to the other boy right now, which were an issue at the best of times. He swiped his phone from the cup holder and, without looking, opened it to the navigation app. He handed the screen to Elliot. "There." Only about twenty minutes left in the drive.
The boxer arched an eyebrow at the sudden shift of tone in the car. It made it a little more exciting that there were unusually high stakes attached to this night out, especially since Vincent had been surprisingly forgiving about his wild nights as long as he gave his all at their training sessions. Which was always a given with Wren. The one with something to lose was exclusively Elliot. And Wren was always a pain when he was given responsibility for someone he felt like messing with. "Okay, okay. I got you. Don't worry about it. We'll make sure to fix your tongue colour before your dad sees you; chill out." He gave a little roll of his eyes. "What's his problem anyway? You do absolutely everything he says. Which, obviously, your dad is terrifying. I just woulda thought he'd be a bit less strict with his own kid. You don't have any siblings, right?"
w/ elliot
Wren snorted abruptly at that answer, eyebrows shooting up as he brought a hand to cover his mouth. Damn, if that hadn't been a total loss of composure. His hand fell back away from his face as he glanced over at the other boy and smirked, tongue sliding over his lower lip briefly. "I did mean legal to drink. I don't know what you're referencing." Another incredulous scoff fell from his lips as he turned back to pay attention to the highway merging situation. The fact that he was underage wasn't really a problem. Most of the people there would be above age and cops tended to avoid these kinds of parties anyway. That was definitely an upside to the shift in demographics. The men in blue didn't fuck with the kids who likely had 3 different terrifying lawyers on speed-dial at any given moment. He'd only asked because he was genuinely curious.
"It's--" Wren never really got the opportunity to familiarize himself with Kahil's area. It wasn't the kind of neighbourhood that had weekly barbeques. Everyone's house was tucked away behind hedges and mile-long driveways, not to mention the gates. Wren just listened to Google Maps; got in and out before someone could call the cops on him for walking. Plus he didn't really feel like exposing his embarrassing navigation challenges to the other boy right now, which were an issue at the best of times. He swiped his phone from the cup holder and, without looking, opened it to the navigation app. He handed the screen to Elliot. "There." Only about twenty minutes left in the drive.
The boxer arched an eyebrow at the sudden shift of tone in the car. It made it a little more exciting that there were unusually high stakes attached to this night out, especially since Vincent had been surprisingly forgiving about his wild nights as long as he gave his all at their training sessions. Which was always a given with Wren. The one with something to lose was exclusively Elliot. And Wren was always a pain when he was given responsibility for someone he felt like messing with. "Okay, okay. I got you. Don't worry about it. We'll make sure to fix your tongue colour before your dad sees you; chill out." He gave a little roll of his eyes. "What's his problem anyway? You do absolutely everything he says. Which, obviously, your dad is terrifying. I just woulda thought he'd be a bit less strict with his own kid. You don't have any siblings, right?"
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. defensive.
LOCATION. on the way to kahil & reylin's.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren qwastenaya[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot's face flushed red at Wren's answer, shaking his head as he turned to face away from him. He didn't exactly feel like telling Wren just what he was referencing. That was... private information. Wren didn't need to know. He glanced over at his phone upon being shown the directions, nodding slightly. He shifted again in his seat, that ball of nervousness only seeming to get larger. He had no idea if it was going to go away.
When Wren asked what exactly his dad's problem was, Elliot felt his defenses go up again, his shoulders tensing up a little. "It's just been me and my dad since I was seven. I'm an only child." He knew that if he mentioned his mom, he wouldn't be able to stop talking about her, and Wren hadn't deserved that just yet. Elliot had no idea if he ever would. "He never let me box, or even try to learn how to fight. It'sโ it's funny, when people look at the two of us, he's Vincent O'Malley, one of the greatest boxers to ever live, and then there's me. I'm nothing compared to him." A bitter laugh accompanied his words, going to stare out the window again.
"My dad has his reasons with why he never let me do things, even if he never shared those with me. Same way I have my reasons for living with him and working for him still." Wren wasn't his therapist. All this conversation was doing was making his need to drink to just escalate, wanting to forget this whole conversation happened.
It wasn't exactly private knowledge that Elliot's mom died when he was younger. The press release said cancer, and only Elliot, his dad, and his uncle knew the real cause of death. He needed to stop thinking about his mom. It wasn't going to make this night go any easier. Vincent O'Malley was a protective man, and so keeping Elliot from fighting, in any way, was the easiest way for him to keep Elliot safe. Elliot never understood it.
He chewed at his lower lip, shifting in his seat again. He just wanted to get drunk. He was tempted to ask Wren how long it'd be until they got to the party, but figured that'd be an annoying question, so he just kept his mouth shut.
Elliot was no stranger to partying, or drinking, for that matter. It was the only way he felt like he could get his mom out of his head sometimes. It was the only way Elliot had to feel like he wasn't under the eyes of his dad, running a hand through his hair again. He didn't wanna keep talking about this.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"stop letting that come back to haunt me."[/div][/div][/div]
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jay.rain
cityfolk relocator
wren -- @ kahil & reylin's
w/ elliot, kahil, levi, a bunch of other people
Wren gave a soft sigh of exasperation when he felt the atmosphere in the car tense up once more. He hadn't meant to start anything, but it seemed something would always be started whenever the two of them talked. While dangerous, Wren couldn't deny that he was having an exceedingly good time already. The fighter perked up as the younger boy went on, having not expected to get a full backstory, especially not such an angsty. He listened keenly and nodded appropriately, blinking in surprise at the self-deprecation that all but drenched every other word. While he couldn't understand how someone could just blindly obey someone by virtue of being their child, he wasn't about to push anything. He was trying to get the teen to warm up to him and he wouldn't get there by challenging his life philosophies on day one.
"Yeah, that totally didn't explain why he doesn't let you learn to fight, but sure. It's not any of my business anyway." He wasn't actually that emotionally intelligent to know when something 'wasn't his business'. He'd definitely be bringing it up again after pouring a couple of shots into Elliot. It simply wasn't convenient to talk about at that moment. He reached for his phone and tapped through a few songs before landing on some generic Post Malone shit. The navigation app finally told him to get off the highway and he felt his spirits lift; that meant they were only about five minutes from the redhead's place.
--
Levi and Kahil were just beginning to let people in when the silver Mercedes pulled up the driveway. Levi grinned from where he was smoking a blunt on the main doorstep while Kahil had already disappeared inside to grab them both something to drink. He came back with two classic solo cups, filled to the brim with more rum than coke. Wren turned the corner from the garage with Elliot close behind him. "Guys. Meet Elliot O'Malley. Elliot, this is Levi Haywood and Kahil Kaikw." Both of his friends nodded politely and Kahil moved forward to bestow the alcohol upon them. Wren took both cups gratefully and handed one to the boy at his side.
"As in. Vincent O'Malley?" Levi questioned, brow drawn low with interest as he took another drag.
w/ elliot, kahil, levi, a bunch of other people
Wren gave a soft sigh of exasperation when he felt the atmosphere in the car tense up once more. He hadn't meant to start anything, but it seemed something would always be started whenever the two of them talked. While dangerous, Wren couldn't deny that he was having an exceedingly good time already. The fighter perked up as the younger boy went on, having not expected to get a full backstory, especially not such an angsty. He listened keenly and nodded appropriately, blinking in surprise at the self-deprecation that all but drenched every other word. While he couldn't understand how someone could just blindly obey someone by virtue of being their child, he wasn't about to push anything. He was trying to get the teen to warm up to him and he wouldn't get there by challenging his life philosophies on day one.
"Yeah, that totally didn't explain why he doesn't let you learn to fight, but sure. It's not any of my business anyway." He wasn't actually that emotionally intelligent to know when something 'wasn't his business'. He'd definitely be bringing it up again after pouring a couple of shots into Elliot. It simply wasn't convenient to talk about at that moment. He reached for his phone and tapped through a few songs before landing on some generic Post Malone shit. The navigation app finally told him to get off the highway and he felt his spirits lift; that meant they were only about five minutes from the redhead's place.
--
Levi and Kahil were just beginning to let people in when the silver Mercedes pulled up the driveway. Levi grinned from where he was smoking a blunt on the main doorstep while Kahil had already disappeared inside to grab them both something to drink. He came back with two classic solo cups, filled to the brim with more rum than coke. Wren turned the corner from the garage with Elliot close behind him. "Guys. Meet Elliot O'Malley. Elliot, this is Levi Haywood and Kahil Kaikw." Both of his friends nodded politely and Kahil moved forward to bestow the alcohol upon them. Wren took both cups gratefully and handed one to the boy at his side.
"As in. Vincent O'Malley?" Levi questioned, brow drawn low with interest as he took another drag.
astrowrld
why don't you get a grip?
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[div class=charname]elliot ![/div]
[div class=icon][/div][div class=iconcolour][/div][div class=charinfo][div class=scroll]MOOD. just wants to let stuff go
LOCATION. kahil & reylin's.
ATTIRE. click.
INTERACTIONS. wren, kahil, levi, so many others[/div][/div]
[div class=post][div class=scroll]Elliot all but bristled at Wren's response, but tried to not show it, knowing it'd get him nowhere being angry like this. Besides, he was going to the party to have fun, not start a fight. Like he'd even be able to win one anyways. The rest of the drive was spent in mostly silence from Elliot, feeling some of the tension melt away as they pulled up to the driveway. He unbuckled his seat belt as soon as the car was put in park, opening the door and taking a breath of somewhat fresh air.
The music coming from inside the house was almost calming to Elliot, in an incredibly odd way, and he followed Wren up to the front door. Elliot nodded back at Wren's friends (Levi and Kahil, he'd try his best to remember those) before gratefully accepting the cup, taking a long swig of it before hearing Levi's question.
"Yeah, Vincent O'Malley, famous boxer. That's my dad." Elliot said with another nod, the burn of the drink in his throat incredibly welcoming to him. He wondered some times, how peoples perspectives of him changed as soon as they realized he was the son of Vincent O'Malley. He knew without a doubt that Wren's friends were probably going to do the same. He distracted himself from that by taking another drink out of the cup, the buzz of the alcohol already seeming to calm his nerves a little bit. "Does it really matter?"
Was he really brought here to prove a point? That thought wouldn't just leave him alone, and as he glanced down at his already half empty cup, he could only wonder what Wren's real motives were. He hated when people made a big deal about his dad, because he and his dad weren't even the same people in the slightest, so he didn't know why it mattered.
Elliot could hear the bustle of people inside, and taking another drink, he looked inside the house through the open door, seeing lights flashing and people moving around. Elliot, admittedly, missed partying, missed the way it'd make him forget about everything for a while. He almost wanted to wander inside by himself, but something inside him told him to stay back, stay with Wren. He kinda wanted to tell that voice to go fuck itself.
He took another drink, the cup almost entirely gone at this point, and Elliot couldn't help but crave more. Maybe he had unhealthy coping mechanisms, but he'd much rather drink his problems away than confront them head on, and with that thought, he finished his drink, looking over at Wren.
[/div][/div]
[div class=quote]"where's the booze? seriously. where is it. tell me."[/div][/div][/div]
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