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Oscar Glass

"Don't worry about it. These things happen."

0 · 748 views · located in Upper Brookfield

a character in “The Day We Die”, as played by usernamesareadrag

Description

Oscar "Oz" Glass
Image



Name:
"Call me Oz. Oscar sounds too grown up, you know?"
Oscar Miles Glass. However, he prefers to go by "Oz" because he thinks Oscar is far too stuffy of a name. Ozzie is also an acceptable nickname, but that's more of an affectionate pet name limited to his family and extremely close friends.

Age:
"I guess that means that I'm an adult now. Haha, isn't that a scary thought?"
Eighteen-Years-Old

Gender:
"I'm pretty sure that you can tell, right?"
Male

Are you past life aware?:
"Past life? What, like reincarnation?"
At this point in time, Oz is completely unaware of anything to do with his past life apart from the occasional case of deja vu that can be easily explained away by any rational mind. No inkling of forgotten memories, no flashbacks or realizations from the lives that he's already lived, and, of course, no nightmares about any of his prior deaths.

Role:
Boy 2




Image







Image

Personality:
"It's kind of hard to just sum a person up, isn't it?"
Anyone who meets Oz would be quick to note that the boy almost perfectly embodies the Type B personality. He's the sort of person who can roll with life's punches with relative ease, taking failures with nonchalance and celebrating success as it comes. He faces challenges calmly and, rather than bending under pressure or becoming easily frustrated, he remains cool and collected in high-stress environments. Oz is, quite simply, a relaxed sort of person and is incredibly slow to anger or irritate. Even when stumbling into fights and arguments, Oz tries to be passive and calm the situation down which, of course, doesn't always work out. His patience is also legendary among his friends, whether he is sitting through irritated rants or simply waiting for hours on end when someone forgets to show up to hang out and then apparently not holding any grudge even if he's a bit disappointed. And his disappointed face, well, that may just be worse then any sort of temper tantrum. He's also a flexible and accepting sort of person, putting up with his friends' shenanigans and often joining in when he can. However, when left to his own devices, Oz is quite comfortable lounging around at home or off doing his own thing and it occasionally takes a nudge from his friends to actually motivate him to go out and do things just for fun. Still, when he does go out, he has a blast being the social butterfly that he is.
That's not to say he's a completely zen sort of person or without emotion. Quite the opposite, he's a rather emotional person, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He's overtly affectionate with his friends, throwing an arm around shoulders, giving hugs when they return from vacation, and ruffling hair if only because he's one of the tallest in the group. He's an empathetic person, offering a shoulder to cry on or even just an ear to listen when someone needs it, friend or stranger alike. Which, in retrospect, may be how he has so many friends or, at least, several close friends and tons of acquaintances. However, he shows a stronger concern for his close friends, like Nate who, quite frankly, is worrying him to bits, but, Oz supposes, he'll talk when he wants to talk. Hopefully.
These are not, admittedly, the best sort of qualities. His lack of motivation and relaxed nature leads him to procrastinate terribly which can obviously lead to problems. His passive nature leads some people to take advantage of him. His empathetic tendencies also makes him generally push back his own needs and wants to assist his friends. And, despite his relaxed nature, it is entirely possible to get him angry, just difficult. And when he does blow a fuse, it's a terrifying even to see the normally calm and cheerful Oz actually shouting or, on the rarest of occasions, throwing punches.

Your Details:
Oz's past is nothing too tragic or memorable, but it's had a great impact on the man he is today. Oz was, originally, a more normal little boy with a short temperament, more excitable and needy. However, everything changed when his parents divorced when he was eight. It was an amicable thing, really, with both just citing "irreconcilable differences", i.e. they were no longer in love with one another. His mother, Eliza, was granted custody of the rambunctious eight-year-old and soon remarried an older man named Todd. Now, Todd and Oz got along as well as could be expected, even if the child slightly resented the man taking his father's place in the home, but the most drastic change came from the other new additions to the family; Todd's two daughters Mary, eleven, and Ellie, four. At first, Oz was thrilled to have siblings, something that he'd never experienced in his life as an only child. It wasn't until they moved in that he realized how different it would be.
Mary was a little snot, in the word's of her fed-up teachers, snooty and unlikable as well as demanding of both her father and new step-mother's time and money. She had to have the latest fashions, toys, you name it. As for Ellie, well, she was demanding in her own way, a consummate daredevil who enjoyed trying to climb the highest things that she could like a little monkey. Cast in the large shadow of his step-sisters' antics, Oz was given two choices; act out even more to get his stressed-out parents' attention or become the "easy child". The child who didn't cause problems, who helped out when they could, "the good child" even. Unlike most boys his age, he chose the second option.
It was hard at first, but as time went by, he fell into the role neatly. Life was easier when he was relaxed and calm- stress didn't get to him anymore, he was a blessing to his parents, more and more people seemed to like him. It seemed like he'd made the right choice. That is, until he broke up with his first and only girlfriend, a pretty girl named Karen, who insisted that these qualities he'd developed, that made him who he was, were 'dull' and 'irritating' and that the only reason people hung around him was due to how easily used he was. He brushed it off (much to her lasting ire) and pretended as if the breakup was amicable and fine, but the damage was already done and doubt began to set in as to even his friends' real intentions. Not only that, but, recently, his best friend Nate has begun to withdraw from the group, Oz included, and everyone seems to be having their own problems that, in his mind, are much more important then his.

Image

Likes:
[+]Jogging
[+]Pizza
[+]Dogs of All Kinds
[+]Yoga
[+]Making Friends
[+]Video Games
[+]Relaxing
[+]Violin, Especially in Celtic Music
[+]Cooking

Dislikes:
[-]Competitions
[-]Secrets
[-]Mushrooms
[-]Snakes
[-]Fighting
[-]Waking Up Early
[-]Being Rushed
[-]Horror Films
[-]Rap

Secrets:
"I'm not exactly the most secretive person."
-His breakup with his first and only girlfriend at sixteen was far from as mutual and amicable as he described it to people. It was a messy thing, her accusing him of being 'boring' and 'lazy' given that he wasn't the most romantic sort of significant other and was much more content to not take her anywhere unless she suggested it, and then revealing that she'd only dated him to have a complacent boyfriend who went along with whatever she said. He never knew how much of it was true or how much of it was said in the bitterness of their breakup, but it stuck with him, lodging in the back of his mind and making his wonder if his friends felt the same way.

-He's actually quite terrified of horror movies, often keeping the light on in his room for days afterwards.

Fears:
"Scared? Me? No, never!"
-Oz is absolutely terrified of snakes, often going to great lengths to avoid them, and even refusing to go to the Reptile House at the zoo on the off chance that one might escape.

-On the more serious side of things, however, deep down he's terrified that his friends might not really like him and are just keeping him around because it's convenient for them.

Sexual Orientation:
"It's all fine, man."
A burgeoning bisexual who generally prefers women.


Crush:
None

Boyfriend/Girlfriend:
"I've been told that I'm not exactly boyfriend material."
None

Other:
-He has a long scar on the back of his left leg from a bicycling accident when he was twelve.
-His dream is to one day go back-packing across Europe.

Height:
"I'm not tall- everyone else is just short."
6'1

Build:
"See? Yoga's not as girly as everyone says."
Tall and slightly lanky, Oz is lithe from his jogging and yoga.

Looks:
"Not too shabby, am I right?"
Image
Tall and lanky as if his body hasn't quite figured out what to do with his height as of yet, Oz is nevertheless a rather lithe individual, muscular from his daily jogs and morning yoga. His blonde hair is often in a tousled mess, strands curling in wayward directions. His features are angular and rather sharp, but a kind almost bemused smile that almost always graces his face does a good deal to soften it. His bright green eyes are rather sleeping looking, darks bags collected underneath, but are still relatively friendly in appearance. On an average day, he throws on whatever is convenient whether that be jeans and a sweater or cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but he prefers not to put too much thought into his outfits if only because that's kind of a pain to deal with.


Image

So begins...

Oscar Glass's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Amber Breth Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Paige Parker Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass
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Lacey Harvelle

Lacey grinned at Amber as she showed her the note and nearly squealed. She hopped up out of her seat.

"Outfit time!" She grinned happily and motioned for the girls to come. "I can't wait! My sister and I went shopping the other day. My mom nearly killed us with all the skirts and jeans we bought." Lacey plucked out at least a twenty-dollar bill, which was probably more than what the milkshakes and fris cost. But she didn't care. She came to this diner all the time. If she paid too much this time, she usually was given something free during her next visit. "Alright, ladies. Up and at 'em. We're about to get beautified."

Lacey linked arms with Amber and Vi, tugging both girls closes to her and begging Paige with her eyes to link up with someone. This was girl time and girl time meant close time. Sure, the probability of all four of them fitting through the door was probably slim to nothing, but the attempt was always fun.

"I call shotgun," Lacey reminded them, daring Violet and Paige with her eyes to even think about going against her. They could race for it if they wanted to. Lacey was very determined, even in her play time. She glanced down at her phone as they headed for the door and released one of the girls to flip through her texts. Her phone had been on silent and her mother texted her.


We need to talk


Yeah, right. Lacey would not be caught dead alone with that woman.

Shaking that off, she glanced at the guys as they got ready to go, a look of glee on her face as it was very obvious this time that her friends were coming. Don't get Lacey wrong; she was very much aware of what had happened with Briton and promised inwardly revenge. Ryan Chaffon was actually friends with Max, as Lacey recalled. Payback's 'bout to be a bitch, she thought, eyes lingering on Briton longer than she meant to. "Okay, guys. We'll see you guys later. All of you." She made sure to add that emphasis, just to reiterate her earlier irritation with Nate. She wasn't Nate-crazy like both Vi and Amber obviously were, but she wasn't not his friend either. And damnit, he was going to spend time with all of them.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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#, as written by Savader
Bringing my eyes back down to earth, I look to Oz, who had just walked up beside to me to ask what it is that I wanted to talk about. Giving him a slight nod, I placed my hands in my pockets and started walking ahead. I figured that Oz must be tired from his initial walk to the diner, so walking all the way back to school would be too much of a pain. Instead, I figured on heading over to my place, since it was closer. About half the distance to the school, in fact. Oz was following along side me, still waiting for my answer to his question. Before I would answer that, however, I thought it would be a good idea to let the man know where we were headed.

"We'll hang out at my place until the party, since you don't seem like you're up for a trip back to school." I said, giving him a humorous smile as I hunched my back and looked at him from the side. Looking back ahead, my smile dropped slightly. "I wanna talk about Briton's current problem." I admitted. Pausing for a moment to think about what I was going to say, I continued. "I know I haven't been very...involved...with everyone lately, but... I still care, y'know? If someone is hurting Briton, I wanna do something about it." I realized that I didn't really have the right to intrude like I was, and it was because of my own doing, but I had to do something now that it was apparent that one of my friends was in trouble. And in the end, I always came back for my friends... Always.

Stopping mid-walk, I turn to Oz, still hunched over with my head tilted a bit. I'm looking him in the eye while holding a rather troubled expression. I wanted him to know that I was still his friend; that I still gave a damn, even if I was choosing to be so distant from everyone. I wanted him to see this, because I couldn't tell him... Not without having to say why...

"What do you think? I mean, we've all known how much Briton gets teased-- since even before high school, but it was never this bad..." I said, scowling down at the concrete sidewalk as I spoke. "If it's gotten bad enough to the point of drawing blood, then we need to stop it before it gets even worse... And then there's that Rockford guy. The hell did he do to Briton?" I paused, bringing a hand to my chin as I began thinking about what I had already figured on back at the diner. Whatever Rockford did, it had to be bad enough for Briton personally, for it to take priority over some thug who gave him bloody knees... Blackmail? Over what...? Hm, maybe it was about public humiliation after all, only Rockford hasn't acted on it just yet. He's merely been holding the idea over Briton's head... If that's the case, then I'm sure I know what the source is. Briton's secret has been the same every cycle, but it's not known to anyone in this lifetime, so he guards it heavily. If it ever got out, he'd likely die from embarrassment and anxiety... And I'm not speaking figuratively, either. I've seen the results of how overwhelming those feelings can be, and it's never pretty...

It wasn't until I was snapped back to reality that I realized I had been lost in thought all this time. Apologizing to Oz, who I gave a wry smile, I began walking forward once again. My house wasn't far now, and I'm sure Oz was eager to put the conversation to rest for now. He was an amazing friend, but that very reason often made him too mindful of others' privacy. It was very admirable, but sometimes you needed to pry a little in order to help out a friend. And it was very rare to see any of us other than Amber or Violet do something like that-- least of all Oscar Glass... Of course, that coming from me makes me sound like a total hypocrite, but... I don't mind dawning the title if it means that I can help them in the end. It was no longer about keeping up the regular two-way street between friends. Not since I ruined all their futures... It was now simply about me finding a way to fix it for them, without worrying them before they needed to. And the easiest way to go about doing that was to be very unfair... I've never been angry or upset with any of them for trying to pry into my life because it's expected and understandable. That being said, I couldn't tell them everything... Not just yet. It would be too obstructive towards my goal if they found out too soon. It hurt, lying to them each cycle, but it was necessary... For now...

After a short walk, we reached the steps of my house, my mother's fluffy little Volpino coming out to greet us. She nipped at Oscar's pant-legs, giving little hops at him. She was always excited to see new company, and she hadn't seen Oz in quite a while. "Hey there, Mitzy." I said, kneeling down to pet her. Mitzy gave my hand a gentle nibble before going back to circling Oz. "Guess she really misses you." I laugh and say this as I look up at Oz before standing back up and heading towards my front door. Mitzy was in before I even opened it, however, obviously hyper. Once inside, I motioned for Oz to go ahead and throw his backpack on the floor next to all the shoes and the coat rack. "Ma, I'm home!" I yelled down the hall as I sat down on the inner step to take off my shoes.

A few seconds after announcing my return, my mother appeared in the hall with a smile, which quickly widened upon seeing my taller friend. She, too, hadn't seen Oscar in quite some time...

"Oscar!" she yelled happily, shuffling forward to give him a hug. "GOSH, I was beginning to think we'd never see you again!" Pulling away from the hug, she gave him a quick check. "I swear you kids grow so damn fast...! How tall are you? Gotta be over 6ft by now, right?" Still sitting down, I can't help but smile at their exchange as I remove my other shoe. I lean back on my hands as I look up at them. "Glad to see that you two are still friends," she began to say, eying down at me with a playfully scornful look before smiling back at Oz. "although I'm sure my boy has made it hard on you..." This made me eye the corner of the room out of slight shame, but I didn't drop the smile. "Dinner's just about ready, and there's more than enough to eat, so why don't you stay? Scratch that-- you're staying. End of story." My mother gave him a raise of her eyebrows as she pointed at him and began backing away to the kitchen. "We're having pasta~" she sang, turning away with a chuckle before disappearing through the doorway, little Mitzy quickly following after her.

"Sorry about that." I said once she was gone. "She just wasn't expecting to see you so suddenly, haha." I scratch the back of my head and stand up. "But like she said, you're more than welcome to stay for dinner." Smiling, I pat his shoulder from the side before turning and heading for my room. On the way, I took out my pocket-watch to check the time. It was almost 6pm. The walk to my house was still a little lengthy... Guess I underestimated it due to normally riding a bike to school. Hope Oz's back was okay. Finally reaching my room, I opened the door and flicked on the light. The sight of my rather unoriginal room came into view. It was clean, but it wasn't so boring that one couldn't enjoy themselves when visiting, I suppose. Oscar liked video games, and so I had a decent flat-screen TV and a couple of consoles sitting beside it for whenever he or Violet came by and wanted to hang out inside rather than out. Otherwise, I never really used this room for much other than sleep. If I wasn't entertaining guests, it was just another room to me.

I sat down on the small couch that was pushed up against the wall beside my bed and kicked back. "Make yourself at home." I said, waving an arm around lazily after ruffling my own hair a bit before hopping back up onto my feet. "Oh, sorry-- you want something to drink?" I asked him, remembering how difficult the walk must have been for him, carrying all that extra weight on his back. He was bound to be craving some water by now, right? Maybe it was wrong of me to have deprived my friend of that offer made by Briton to give him a ride home... After all, Oz probably only agreed to walk with me because he saw a chance to hang out with his best friend, even if it was just for a short time. A chance that wouldn't have even been made available in the first place if it wasn't for me...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Amber Breth Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Paige Parker Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Samuel Westhouse
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☩ вяιтση ℓєνι нα∂ιηgѕ ☩
Image


"Briton, you might be upset with me because I put you on the spot all of the sudden, but I only asked because I was concerned..." It was Nate again, continuing on and trying to justify the purpose of why he'd bothered to bring up the topic, why he'd dared to say anything to Briton about a topic he knew was better left untouched. Frankly, Briton cared little for Nate's reasoning at this point. It didn't matter. Briton didn't care that it was out of concern or caring, he didn't care if talking to someone was supposed to 'make things better,' or whatever, he just wanted people out of his business. Being treated like a helpless little damsel in distress was agonizing enough when it came down to his friends intervening whenever they caught someone in the act of bullying him, and Briton was positive it was a position many girls didn't even want to be in these days! Why couldn't they just leave him be to fight his own battles? Save his own damn self? Well, perhaps because he couldn't.

"And as for what I'm going to do, well... I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Briton finally made an effort to look up at his friend just in time to see him give a light shrug. Briton didn't like the way Nate had phrased that in the least, though. Not making a plan and even going so far as to leave it all up to the impulse of a moment? It was even stupider than the idea of Nate trying to intervene in the first place.

Briton let his gaze sink back away once again, dropping down to his lap. He didn't have anything to say at this point, and he was sure that even if he tried, all that would come out would be an inaudible murmur. For Christ's sake, Nathan, even overly-concerned-all-the-time Amber fucking knew better to say a single thing about Briton's knees when she'd finally arrived back at the table. It wasn't important, and now, after all those eyes on him and all that attention, and that sudden outburst, he wasn't even sure he could get a sentence to come out correctly. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to look at anyone. Part of him wanted to sink away and hide until all of his friends were gone and none of them were even passing him a glance anymore. Still, he put forth the effort to look around the table from time to time, and as his eyes lifted once more, he caught Nate just as he tapped down his hand on Oz's shoulder.

"Hey, mind taking a walk with me? Seems like the girls are gonna be waist-deep in Narnia once they reach Lacey's closet, and Briton's probably too irked to wanna give me a ride home, so I'd appreciate the company." Nate said, and Briton's heat instantly sank down even lower. Nate was taking Oz, and Oz, as was expected, agreed without a single protest. Briton's eyes averted again, not caring about the sudden, visible slump in his shoulders. How. Damn. Pathetic. Briton really knew he had to get his mind off of this guy, but for some reason, he just couldn't help it. Which was doubly annoying, and made him doubly mad at Nate for being closer friends with Oz than he was. Which, then, circled back around to make Briton feel pretty pathetic again.

Nate's steps were almost to the door when Briton heard his name again, coming from, who'd have fucking guessed, Nathan. Briton looked over his shoulder meekly, eyes narrowed, lips pouted, while Nate's words came out. "And Briton... I know I don't really have the right to involve myself in your life after being so distant with everyone, but..." He gave a small pause, staring hard at Briton, a look which made Briton shift his eyes away, even if he left himself still facing Nate. He was tired of eye contact. Why couldn't they just stop looking? "Nobody fucks with my friends..."

Why should you care so much when even I don't? Briton thought bitterly, turning back to face the table while Nathan continued to say some departing words to Violet, about seeing her at the party and whatever.

"See you guys at the party," Oz had suddenly said, and Briton's eyes went up again, honing right in on Oz's sweet, friendly face just as it met his. That gentle hand reached down and, though the result of the action was much undesirable, Briton gave a small smile, just barely turning up the corners of his mouth as Oz's hand connected with his head and tousled his hair every which way imaginable. He was still smiling faintly to himself while Oz said his last goodbyes and followed after Nathan, while Briton raked his hands back through his hair to shove those long, half-blonde strands back behind his ears and out of the way. He had that look on his face like when someone is trying their hardest not to smile. He was angry for Christ's sake! He was upset... He didn't have time to be thinking about that kind of stuff, or getting flustered over something he shouldn't be getting flustered over in the first place. And yet here he was. It took him a moment to drop the smile, regain that emotionless facade, aside from that sad look in his eyes.

"Let's get this show on the road." Charlie suddenly interjected, drawing Briton's attention back to what was going on. Both Charlie and Sam would still be taking the ride from him, and he had to keep himself together for at least as long as it would take to get them home. Briton found him nodding at the comment absentmindedly while he stood slowly from his seat and pushing it in under the edge of the table even though he knew very well it didn't belong at the end of that booth.

Another Jolt came to him - no, not a jolt, just a gentle nudge from Charlie, thought it still managed to make Briton jump slightly, being caught off guard by the action. "You know you can talk to me right?" Charlie said, a kind smile spread across his face. Briton could tell the guy was concerned, for sure. He kind of felt bad, but... It was his business after all. He didn't have to talk to anyone if he didn't want to, and that was a fact. He didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, really! Even if maybe he was the type to cave in for fear they'd give him too much attention if he didn't comply. "That is what friends are for."

The last comment struck Briton with a tinge of guilt with the emphasis on friends. Sure, maybe Charlie was feeling guilty for the stupid reason of having not been so open about caring about Briton or something along those kinds of ridiculous lines, but it almost felt like an accusation. Here were these friends of Briton's, and he couldn't even manage to open up to them. Not in a single of his lives had he died without taking his secret to the grave - though perhaps some just sort of "knew" on instinct that he was gay and didn't bring it up, who could say - and not a single time in being bullied when his friends weren't there to see it did he even bring it up. Were they mad about that? Deep down was Briton just a frustration to them that they couldn't even find a way to connect with him, or help him out? Still, it wasn't going to make opening up to them and telling them everything any easier. Maybe they wanted to help, but really... what were they going to think?

"I call shotgun." Charlie said suddenly, breaking Briton away from his paranoia. At least the topic was gone and out of the way, and Briton gave a small tilt up to the corner of his lips at the departing Charlie, scampering out the front door to go and wait by the old Camry outside.

Briton gave a look over his shoulder at Sam, giving as lighthearted a shrug as he could. "Guess it's time to hit the road, huh?" Briton let out a small sigh, facing forward again and heading out the same way, taking a few deep breaths to be sure he was going to handle himself well enough for driving. He pulled the keys from his pocket, shoving them in the driver's side door and turning until the doors on all sides unlocked, allowing the two other boys to slide in; Sam into the backseat and Charlie into the passenger seat. Briton quickly grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat just in the nick of time before Charlie was sliding in, and promptly pulled his ipod from the front pocket before tossing the heavy bag full of books into one of the back seats next to Sam where it was a little more out of the way. He started the car quickly, next, before turning his attention over to the radio, plugging his ipod into the jack so that the auxiliary would play rather than the radio, an upgrade to the car which his brother had worked for hours on when Briton had first gotten the thing.

"You guys'll just have to suffer through some of my music for the short ride. Hope you don't mind." Briton said, finally bringing his voice up to a somewhat normal - or at least, normal for him - tone as he pulled up his most recent playlist and let it start before setting his ipod down and pulling out just as "Hard Smart Beta" by Starfucker started playing. At least music could distract him a little on the ride home. Make him a little less on edge, perhaps. Sure, the mix was full of who the hell could guess what, and no one could ever be sure exactly what would pop up next, but most of it was in... relatively good taste. Um.... most of it was. Some, on the other hand was extremely questionable.

By the time he'd pulled out of the parking lot, however, the short song had ended, and "Problem" by Natalia kills had started playing instead. Okay there was one of the questionable ones, he knew they were in there somewhere. He would have reached over and skipped it, what with the guys in his car and all, but... He was driving, and with his emotions already shaky enough, he didn't want to risk distracting himself from the task at hand. He hated driving enough. He decided against apologizing about the song, in hopes that they were just too distracted or whatever to actually question the lyrics. Either way, the song wouldn't last forever, and by the time the car pulled up to Sam's place, the song had changed to "Breezeblocks" by Alt-J.

"Bye, Sam," Briton called after his departing friend while he slipped out and headed towards his house. He bit his lip a moment, fighting against the urge to continue to ignore that even if Briton didn't like it, the guy had done something for him, and Briton had still refused to acknowledge it. Finally, just before losing the small window of opportunity to do so, he opened his car door window threw out some small, if not somewhat grumbly, words of gratitude. "And... Thanks. For the gauze and shit, by the way..."

He sighed, feeling a bit mentally exhausted. Yeah, more like thanks for butting your way into something that didn't need any more assistance! I would have taken care of it when I got home, Briton thought bitterly as he rolled the window up and pulled away from the curb. It would have been fine...

His eyes traveled over to Charlie for a split second, before they darted back to the street. "Alright, next to drop you off at your place."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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It was with complete and utter patience that Oz trailed alongside Nathan, adjusting the strap of his backpack digging into his left shoulder. The answer wasn't immediate, not that Oz particularly minded, and instead a moment of silence fell over the two friends, or at least all of the silence that life in a small town afforded. The sun was still trudging along its familiar path, dipping beneath the horizon as the heat of the day slowly began to dissipate leaving a gentle breeze. The silence, as it turned out, did not last long as when they were a fair distance from the diner, or at least far enough not to be immediately heard by those leaving the restaurant, Nate began to speak.

"We'll hang out at my place until the party, since you don't seem like you're up for a trip back to school."

Oz's ever-present smile grew even wider to meet the slight humorous smile on his friend's face. Leave it to Nate to think about something like that- he may not be a constant worrywart but whether it be Briton's... issues or just Oz's death-by-backpack situation, the other boy always seemed to have his friends' best interests in heart. Well, almost always. It was sad to say that Oz wasn't quite sure what his best friend was thinking these days as he withdrew from their group, from Oz. Still, Oz still clung to his optimism like a life raft, so sure that it would all turn out all right and that Nate would be back to his old self soon enough. Until then, Oz would just do what he always seemed to be doing- waiting.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed instantly. And it did sound good not just because of the short walk but because it had been ages since he'd been to Nate's house, since they had hung out together just the two of them. That was, of course, when the conversation took a turn for the serious, Nate's smile shrinking and voice taking on a more somber tone.

Oz found himself simply nodding his head minutely as Nate spoke, offering up half-hearted apologies with no explanations attached and a reaffirmation about his worry for Briton. Join the club, Oz mentally mused as a familiar knot of worry twisted his stomach leaving him feeling nauseous. He didn't doubt for a minute that Nate cared about them, (Oz was, in this regard, too loyal by far). But doing something about Briton wasn't as cut and dry as everyone liked to make it seem. How do I help Briton had been a recurring thought over Oz's lifetime since he'd met the smaller boy so many years ago and he'd yet to find some way to make everything all right.

Nate stopped suddenly and Oz did too after a few more steps, turning towards his friend with some confusion only to be met by Nate's gaze. Oz had to crane his neck slight down and Nate had to tilt his head upwards, but their gazes met for a moment. Nate looked troubled, an expression that was uncharacteristic of and looked out of place on the high schooler, like a secret was trying to pass through his lips but, for whatever reason, he didn't see it fit to inform his best friend. Instead of looking away, Oz met the stare with his own sleepy eyes, trying for a compassionate expression like that simple look could make his friend open up. It didn't, of course it didn't, and the spell was broken when Nate began to speak again.

"What do you think?" What did he think? Luckily he was spared an immediate reply as Nate continued to talk, allowing the relaxed boy to roll the thoughts around in his mind. Should they tell a teacher? Doubtful given the prevalent 'see-no-evil' policy they'd adopted, ignoring bullying that didn't play out in front of them. Follow Briton around like guard dogs(although it would take a serious amount of imagination to even fathom the idea of Oz putting up a physical fight despite his rather tall size)? Avert their eyes and ignore the issue unless it was in front of them until Briton was good and ready to have it dealt with? Oz had been following that method for years and, surprise, surprise, it wasn't exactly working out.

Oz was jerked out of his thoughts by a noise or, rather, the lack thereof. Nate had gone silent and was just standing there, scowling fiercely at the ground. However, just as suddenly as he had stopped, Nate was in motion again, a vague apology tumbling off of his lips(to which Oz simply shook his head with a quick "No worries") and they were moving again along the familiar path towards Nate's house. Oz followed behind obediently, tilting his head for a moment to regard his friend, but, to be honest, it wasn't the weirdest thing Nate had done, not by a long shot.

It was like a light-switch had been flicked on and suddenly there was normality in Oz's life- like nothing had ever changed, like no fights were being had, like no one was drifting away- when a little ball of fluff came flying out of Nate's house, nipping at and dancing around Oz with a dizzying sort of excitement that contrasted with his lack of energy. Oz was just as happy as Mitzy was, leaning over and carding his hands through soft fur as she passed by in a never-ending circle, accepting nips from sharp little teeth and accompanying licks as if to salve the minor wounds with glee.

"I missed her too," He cooed as the Volipino gave one last circle before darting back inside with Nate and Oz following behind, albeit much more slowly. Even if Nate hadn't indicated that Oz could set his backpack down, Oz would have anyways, following old habits without much thought after many an afternoon spent at Nate's home. Well, not entirely Nate's home. There were, of course, other occupants, one of which who made their own appearance.

Oz accepted the hug without hesitation, wrapping his gangly arms around her with just as much affection. To be honest, Nate's mother really sometimes served as Oz's second mother as shown just at that moment as she tutted over him like it had been years since they'd last seen each other.

"As if Nate could get rid of me that easily," Oz joked warmly, not catching Nate's shamed look, too caught up in the whirlwind of familiar warmth. In a way, Nate's mother was just as excitable as Mitzy, quickly deciding that he would be staying for dinner(not that Oz would ever turn down a free meal) and dashing back into the kitchen as suddenly as she'd entered.

"Don't be sorry," He snorted good-naturedly at Nate's apology. "I only come here to see them. You just happen to be here." Then, with another smile after his little joke, he added, "And I'd love to stay for dinner." He followed his friend along the familiar path to his room which, as Oz had often noted, seemed a little devoid of personality. Oh, there were things all right, fantastic things like a flatscreen and video games and a couch, but no posters, so eclectic items gathered over years of life. It was just a room. A nice room.

He settled on the couch as well, collapsing into the seat and sinking into the cushions with no little satisfaction.

"I'm fine," Oz replied quickly, shaking his cup as if in demonstration and took another sip. It was more liquid than shake now, but still tasty enough like a sort of ice-cream soup. The next words, however, he couldn't account for, didn't know how they appeared in his mind or how they subsequently squirmed out of his lips.

"I know that you still care about us," He began, "You're a good friend, Nate, even if you've been a little distant lately. But, you know, I want to do something about the Briton thing too. If we're going to do something," He continued, fiddling with the styrofoam cup still half full of strawberry milkshake, "Then maybe we should talk to them? Like, at the party? Ask what's going on or... I dunno. I mean, we have to do something..." He trailed off, taking an exaggeratedly long slurp from his melting drink. The words were so uncharacteristic coming from him that it almost made him stumble. Oz, the eternal pacifist, suggesting that they take on a problem no one had asked them to solve. Sure it was in a nonviolent and, if he had his way, nonaggressive way, but given Oz's tendency that doubled as a fault of letting things be unless forced or asked otherwise, it was bizarre. Maybe it just showed how much he cared for Briton, maybe he was grasping at his friends as they all seemed to be separating(or at least that was the case of his own best friend), or maybe it was because he hadn't had time to get his daily yoga routine since his mother had had to drop him off to school early on her way to work given his lack of car.

"Never mind, don't listen to me. I'm talking crazy," He amended, shaking his head with a light chuckle to laugh off the situation. It sounded natural and not at all forced which was one of the things that made Oz a dangerous person both to others and to himself. He could shrug off things like this for the moment and later erase it away with a little relaxation or at least try to. "Well, except for the you being a good friend part. That's a little less crazy, right, man?"

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Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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#, as written by Savader
Oz kindly refused my offer to get him something to drink by shaking his, by now, likely melted milkshake at me. This made me nod with a wry smile, showing that I understood. I felt awkward, so I stepped over to my window and leaned to my side, my elbow propped up on the windowsill. If someone who didn't know any better were to walk into that bedroom right then, looking for the owner of said bedroom, it wouldn't have surprised me if they addressed the tall young man who was sitting comfortably on the small couch, slurping down his shake as though he'd lived there his entire adolescent life, instead of the apparent stranger who seemed to have never set foot in that house before then, which explained why he was leaning up against the windowsill, rather than plopped down on the couch alongside Oz. All that, aside from the actual resident having been me instead of Oz, was practically 100% true.

I just didn't feel at home there-- I never did. In any of these lives. Not entirely, anyway. Sure, it felt familiar, seeing as how I grew up in the damn place for 15 years before it finally felt incorrect, but the fact that it wasn't my original home made it feel strange to me now. It was the same for my family. Or families, since this sure as hell wasn't the first... The only thing that still felt somewhat real to me was my friends. Or, at least, they used to... There was a time when I could say without a doubt that I was everything was perfect, and I was still important to them. But now... Judging by the way I simply didn't know how to place myself, in my own room, while the man who I was supposed to be mutual best friends with was visiting, I just wasn't sure anymore... Adding that in with the constant feeling of my heart not being in the same place as my mind while I was staying under that roof, and it just felt all the more awkward. It was, of course, nice being around my friends-- especially around Oz, who was my oldest and very best, but it... It just wasn't the same anymore... Not since I made that unbelievably selfish decision... Dammit... Now I'm feeling depressed just talking about that. Nevermind that -- the past's not important at this point in the story, so I'll get back to that later when it is. What was important, was what Oz said next.

"I know you still care about us; you're a good friend, Nate, even if you've been a little distant lately." Those words made my thoughts freeze for a second. They lingered on the phrase 'you're a good friend' as I reflexively smiled a little. It echoed a few times inside my head, each rebounding version sounding louder and louder until it blocked out the ticking of my pocket watch. While the words alone were enough to cause some inner, personal conflict about how I should feel after hearing them, I was also feeling conflicted on what was better; the bliss of not hearing my watch for a few short seconds, or what Oz was going on to say about our friend Briton, which indirectly changed how certain things would play out for a few of our friends over the course of the next several days. "I want to do something about the Briton thing too. If we're going to do something, then maybe we should talk to them? Like, at the party? Ask what's going on or... I dunno. I mean, we have to do something..." After finally admitting that it was bothering him too, he stopped talking for a moment to play with his Styrofoam cup.

Yes! Oz is on board! Kinda! I thought to myself. I didn't jump with joy or anything, but I was indeed happy to hear that I wasn't alone in this. If I had been, then the odds of success would have been considerably lower than they were with him. As was generally every conflict Oz was dragged into. For some reason, talking it out with Oz, no matter who you were, seemed to take the fight out of you entirely. Like it just wasn't worth it after all. Maybe it was due to the calm air around him, with his natural "pacifist" nature, or maybe it was the fact that he was pretty tall and might have come off as a little intimidating to the average bully. Whatever the case, he was always handy to have alongside you if things ever became even slightly heated between two people. That being said, Oz was laid-back and usually against prying into peoples' lives unless otherwise asked, so I use the word 'generally' lightly. With that having been said by our group's wonderful pacifist, I felt more confidant that something could in fact be done about Briton's bullies. And if all went well, no blood would be drawn in the process. At least, that's what I was counting on.

"Nevermind, don't listen to me. I'm talking crazy." He said. This made me frown a bit just before he continued. "Well, except for the you being a good friend part. That's a little less crazy, right, man?" The hell it is. "Yeah..." I said somewhat quietly, with yet another smile, go figure. With my earlier conflicting feelings on Oz's clearly genuine words coming back to me, I felt my chest tighten with pain a little bit as I went back to avoiding me as a topic of interest. "Well, no. You're not crazy, Oz. In fact, you're dead on." I began, smiling more now as I pointed at him casually. "I'm not looking for a fight or anything, just a solution. I want these assholes to leave Briton alone, but I don't wanna make things worse by, say, kicking their asses in front of the whole school only for them to find out that we're friends with the guy they openly pick on who obviously spilled the beans." I paused for a moment after saying that last part rather quickly to readjust my position, without thinking about it. I was now leaning my lower back against the bulky edge of the windowsill that was slightly sticking out from the wall, my hands in my pockets feeling the weight of my watch out of force of habit. "Who knows, maybe if you and I calmly talk to them about it like bros, they'll respect us for it and leave him alone." I said with a slight shrug. Pffft, who was I kidding...? This was HIGH SCHOOL. 21st CENTURY high school... "And if not, then we get a little more...'creative' about our approach." I finished, raising a playful eyebrow, along with a smirk, suggesting something more sinister. Yeah, that seemed more likely.

After the air between us felt lighter now that I began getting back into the groove of how I used to act around my friends, I felt less awkward. Which, as luck would have it, was right in time for my mother to call us out for dinner. Smiling again, I nodded at the door to my bedroom. "So? What are you waiting for? You're usually already halfway out down the hall when you hear my mom shout those words from the kitchen." I said, laughing a little at the memories of better days. It was funny; just a few minutes ago I was feeling awkward over how strange hanging out with Oz felt after so long of being distant towards him and the others, and now, the brief moment that it was, it suddenly felt as though it had never changed. Maybe things weren't as bad as I originally thought. Perhaps I still had a second chance with them after all. And if not with all of them, sad as that thought was, at the very least I'd have my best friend. That thought made me feel like everything was going to be alright. Like it was okay to be happy that they were just here, in my life. Like the curse was no longer a threat. I almost felt at peace because of it. Almost. Maybe the moment would have felt entirely serene, if it weren't for a certain sound reminding me just how far away that little dream truly was... No, the ticking of my watch wouldn't allow me to forget that our final days were just around the corner. And I was the only one who saw it coming... At the time, I didn't really think about that thought lingering in the back of my mind, because things had just started to naturally fall into place again, making me subconsciously slide back into my old persona. And it was because of this that I would come to surprise my friends at the party later that night...

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Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Amber Breth Character Portrait: Paige Parker Character Portrait: Samuel Westhouse Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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#, as written by Jynxii
Lacey Harvelle

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After ensuring that her closet was completely destroyed, and she wasdressed, Lacey was picked up by her friend John- who would be DJing with her that night- to head to the location early for set up. "I'll see you all there!" She left her friends rummaging through her things as she bounded out of the house and across the lawn. Hopping into John's car, she passed the tall blonde a Cheshire cat grin. "Nervous?" "Excited." "Good."

When they arrived at the location it was just the sound crew and a few early arrivals. She immediately set about trying to get all of her gear set up as butterflies fluttered around her stomach. Tonight was going to be amazing, but she couldn't help but feel like something terrible was going to happen. What if she messed up? What if she wasn't a god DJ after all? What if everyone had been lying to her just to get her up there just so that they could watch her fail? What if they were secretly planning to dump pig's blood on her in the middle of her DJing? The ginger haired girl slowly sat the headphones she was moving down, taking a deep breath. This is not a scene from Carrie, Lace. Chill the hell out. Picking up the headphones again, she continued on with her sound check, determined to not let her insecurities get the best of her tonight.





She was doing it. Her remix of We Can't Stop blared through the club as her ginger locks bounced in her pony tail back and forth rhythmically to the beat. Waves of people vibrated, fist pumped, and squirmed to the remix. Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused on scratching in the places she had practiced, her piano fingers turning nob after nob, flying across her equipment as one hand waved back and forth like a metronome over the crowd. The music swam through the room, hiccuping and screaming into the eardrums of everyone present.

Lacey's eyes glanced up from her work, scanning the crowd for her friends. Where were they? Panic gripped her momentarily. What if they had decided not to come? Dread licked up her spine, chilling her even though beads of sweat had started to form on the small of her back. Then she saw them- in the doorway. Relief flooded over her. It looked as if there were some sort of trouble happening. The girls looked pretty heated over something, but from her distance she couldn't tell what they were saying or what the problem was. She had heard that the new bouncers were assholes, but her friends were on the list so... what could the problem have been? Confused, Lacey glanced over to John and nodded to him- a silent plea for his help.

The tall blonde gave her a short nod and slipped out of the booth.Prowling his way though the crowd to stand over the bouncer, glancing between him and the pissed off looking redhead, John cleared his throat. "Let's keep it that way." The girls were coming in fine now, and John blushed slightly at having forced his way through the crowd to come to the rescue of a group of women who obviously could handle themselves. "Everything alright?" He asked in a call over the music so that Amber could hear him. "You guys are with Lace, right? She's in the booth!" His voice was nearly eaten by the music, but he hoped that they could hear him, or at least understand by his pointing toward Lacey. Lacey waved from the booth and grinned widely. They had made it, and everything was perfect.




After Lacey's set was over she came down from the booth and snaked her way through the crowd to find her friends. There were so many people there it was hard to keep her eyes on them from the booth. The skinny ginger forced her way through the crowd until she found Amber,the girls, and Sam- at which point she let out a squeal and threw her arms around her best friend. "What did you think!?" Her tone was shrill with excitement. "I've got sweat literally pouring off my back!" Lacey laughed and blushed instantly, adding, "That's disgusting, isn't it?" Waving her hand in the air to clear the conversation of sweaty backs she decided to change the subject. Leaning closer to Amber so that only the redhead could hear, she added, "Did Nate show up?" Lacey knew how much Amber wanted to see the boy, and after she asked she stood on her tip toes to look out over the crowd as best she could- searching for the boy's dark head. It was useless- there were far too many boys with dark hair in the dark room.

As she was looking, her own eyes scanned for someone she had been hoping to see. Oscar. He was her best guy friend of the group, and she had been so excited to see him. Maybe he had better things to do? It was her insecurities again. She ran her fingers through the end of her ponytail, trying to figure out why she had such a bad feeling in her gut. Pulling herself back to reality, she turned her attention back to Amber and her friends, forcing a smile to light up her face. "So, have you guys seen everyone else?" This was directed towards the group of girls. "I tried looking from the booth, but I lost you guys. There are so many people here!"


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Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Amber Breth Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Samuel Westhouse Character Portrait: Oscar Glass
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☩ вяιтση ℓєνι нα∂ιηgѕ ☩
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Briton found himself tilting, his head leaning towards one shoulder while he looked at Charlie, and quickly made an effort to straighten up once more. Something seemed off about him, like, he wasn't quite feeling himself, or just not acting right. Almost.... awkward... Which was hardly something Briton saw in this outgoing friend of his. Perhaps it was just that they were alone together. After all, it had been quite some time since they had ever done such a thing; such a long time, Briton wondered if they ever had just been the only two in a room. Not that Charlie really should have felt uncomfortable. They were friends, weren't they? Well...

"What do you want to do, I'm cool with anything." Charlie said, giving forth not a single contribution to finding something to kill time with. Briton's head fell back to it's tilted position, watching while Mr. Super-hot-playboy-who-could-have-any-girl-he-wanted-with-a-smile bit his lip sheepishly, pushed the hair out of his face as if he were shy.

Briton simply blinked a few times, his face completely blank, too distracted to try to meld that expression of his into any kind of emotion, and not even sure what emotion it should have been in the first place. Was he supposed to inquire about it? Was he supposed to ask if something was wrong because he was a friend? Surely, if it was the other way around in the situation, Briton wouldn't have wanted anyone to say anything if he were acting strange, but other people were different, weren't they? They liked attention and they didn't freeze up and feel their hearts beating too fast for comfort when they talked about themselves. They weren't scared of their enemies and friends alike, and they liked being thought of. It wasn't too hard, was it? He could just do it. Just ask Charlie if he felt okay. People asked that kind of thing all the time, it was practically small talk. Even two strangers could say it in passing if something seemed wrong, so why wouldn't any words come out of his mouth? He parted his lips; perhaps if he opened them up, the words would come out on their own, but rather he said something else.

"You're weird today."

Briton instantly regretted opening his mouth. He fidgeted, standing up from his bed for a moment only to take two steps away from it, kick one of the cans that were on the floor, and turn back towards the bed to crawl back onto it closer to where his TV remote and laptop were. He made careful to position himself so as not to smear any blood on the sheets, but at the same time, he reminded himself he had to change his sheets anyway, so it didn't matter. All his motions seemed too mechanical, too awkward, and here he was thinking Charlie was acting awkward. Took one to know one, wasn't that what people said all the time? Briton licked his lips, turning the TV on with his remote and lighting the dim room with a blue screen before opening up his laptop and waiting for it to start up and sync with the television.

"I um... uh..." He raked his hand through his hair to push it backwards from his face, continuing motions from the same hand a few more times while he swiftly tucked strands behind his ears. When there was no more to be done with his hair, his hand settled for picking at the hem of his jeans. "Uh.... That um.... came out wrong. Uh... Lets just watch a movie."

Briton quickly pulled up his video files, which was - contrary to his bedroom - was very neat and orderly, separated into different files for different series and different genres for movies. He took a glance over at Charlie a moment, hesitating while he tried to figure out what kind of movie would be the least irritating to the other boy, as if it would have been written across the guy's face or something. Biting his lip, he pulled open the SciFi folder and decided on the Fifth Element. That was a safe choice, right? Who didn't like the Fifth Element? Honestly. The duration of the movie was taken in silence, mostly; the occasional lean over to grab a new slice of pizza from the desk occurred, but Briton didn't really notice too much else. Sure, there was the occasional glance over to Charlie to see what his reactions were, or just to see what he was doing, and once or twice he might have caught Charlie glancing at him. He sort of wondered if that was a normal thing.

By the time the movie was winding down, and so was the time, and Bruce Willis was finally figuring out how to activate the stones, Briton stood from the bed. "I just gotta change my clothes, I almost forgot." He said, half to himself, but knowing full well that Charlie had heard him. He made the quick few steps to the dresser in the room and pulled out a pair of skinny jeans which had been cut off just above the knees after they'd ripped from falling once, and a grey tee shirt with a t-rex throwing up a rainbow across the front. He hesitated a moment, looking over at the back of Charlie's head before looking away again. It was okay, right? To get undressed behing your friend's back. People do that. Straight people do it. It doesn't matter, right? Totally not weird. He pulled his pants down first, tossing them away and pulling on the new pair, which openly displayed the tight, white bandaging on his knees. Luckily, he wasn't bleeding through the bandages just yet, and the stains on his pants hadn't left too many marks on the outside of the bandages either. He didn't really care too much about showing the wound anymore, after all. Really, it was only his friends he was hiding wounds from.

He hesitated with his hands on the hem of his shirt for a moment. What if Charlie looked behind him, even for a just a second, while Briton's shirt was off? Not that Briton was that uncomfortable with the idea of his body being seen as one would think. Sure, he was scrawny and small looking, delicate, and that was embarrassing, but so far, it seemed that Charlie only knew about the bullying from today. He wasn't yet aware of the bruising all over Briton's ribs from having been pushing into the metal bleaches outside yesterday. No one was, yet. And no one needed to be. He gritted his teeth. He would do it fast, he would just ignore it is Charlie said anything. He would hope Charlie would realize not to say anything this time if he saw anything.

Pulling off his shirt as quickly and gingerly as possible and tossing it in the same general direction of the pants he'd strewn, he snatched the new top and pulled it on. By the time the article of clothing was on his body, he couldn't be sure as to whether Charlie had looked at all or not. He really hoped it was "Or not," and moved on to change his socks, which had gotten blood on them earlier, out for some geeky-looking tube socks and shut his laptop as the credits began to roll. The TV would do automatic shut down later.

"Alright, come on," He finally spoke up, not bothering to look back at Charlie before prying open the creaking wooden door to his room and exiting into the much brighter rest of the apartment. He didn't look back until he was at the door and pulling on his shoes, grabbing his keys. Why did everything feel so awkward? Something just felt so odd, and he wasn't sure why. Shouldn't he feel comfortable with all his friends? Like he was with Oz? No, no. He was only comfortable with Oz because he had a stupid-ass fucking crush on the dude. But why couldn't he just relax for two seconds? Was it really that hard? He was sure it was just this day. It was so terrible, so horrible. He couldn't wait for it to be over, and yet here he was again, considering going inside that stupid party since Violet had wanted to talk to him. As if she couldn't just talk to him any other time, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Once Violet was stuck on something, there really wasn't any changing her mind.

Briton pushed through the door and down the stairs, just about at the same speed he'd gone on the way up, not bothering with the door, seeing as it would lock the moment it was closed by Charlie after him, anyway. At least it made forgetting to lock up a lot easier, but it didn't help when forgetting the keys, certainly. He unlocked the car, slid into the driver's side, and as soon as Charlie had gotten in as well, back out of the driveway and headed to that stupid-ass party.

. . .


I don't want to go in, he thought, staring down the groups and crowds standing in the darkening front lawn and pushing through the front door. The music was loud, loud enough to hear from where he sat in the car, parked about a house down across the street. Fast paced, loud sounds, paired with a thick crowd of people he didn't like. Why was it that his friends thought this was such a good idea? He sunk down in his seat a moment, staring over at the flashing lights from the large house. It was a big party. The cops would be around any minute, right? All he had to do was go in, let Violet say whatever the heck she wanted to, maybe see about talking to Oz, and then it would be all over! There was no rule about leaving early, either, now was there?

Sighing, and much to his own displeasure, he popped open the door and slid out of the car moments after Charlie had gotten out. "I'm only going in for a few minutes!" Briton huffed, shutting the door and locking the car before turning and near-storming off towards the front door. "I'll probably leave early, too, so just text me if you need a ride home later," he continued, looking back at Charlie a moment before turning away and quickening his pace. The quicker he was in, the quicker he was out, he supposed.

His trail wandered a bit, before he started to notice a familiar face or two. Ducking under flailing arms and winding around meat-heads twice his size without being noticed at all, he finally got close enough to make out who from the group had finally arrived. He arrived just in time to hear an energetic "hey there!" came from Cora, who, having not been at milkshakes earlier, was a bit of a surprise to see, actually. There was Amber, Lacey.... Sam... It didn't look like Nate and Oz were there, though, but Briton tried to tell himself he wasn't going to really wait around just for another stupid chance to talk to Oz, as tempting as it was.

"Hey guys," Briton uttered, too quiet really for the words to be heard over the music, though he was sure when his friends saw him that they knew he'd greeted them, at the very least. When he spoke again, he tried to make his voice a bit louder, almost tried to yell, though yelling wasn't really something he did very often at all. "I showed up, against my better nature. But I promise I'm not staying."

He huffed. The music was loud, throbbing at his skull and making him want to claw at his ears until he could no longer hear it. His heart pounded swiftly, and the feeling seemed to be too high in his chest. It was hard to breath the air, filled with sweat and booze and everyone else's breath. Too many loomed above him, and he constantly found himself leaning closer to his friends at some point or another because of someone brushing by his back or coming too close. He tried his best to look nonchalant, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, but every muscle was tense. His eyes constantly darting from one passer-by to the next, nervous about whether their attentions would waver from what they were doing or not. He wasn't comfortable. He wasn't safe. He needed to get this over with.

"So where's-" He began, his eyes changing from drifting to searching, before he noticed Violet merging a little more towards the group with a beer in her hand. Stepping in between people and getting over to her finally, he elbowed her. "There you are. You said you wanted to talk to me about something, right?" He flinched while the tone to the music jumped suddenly, stepping closer to her and not caring if his eyes wandered around any more. He was too on-edge, he couldn't help it. He didn't want to be here, he had a bad feeling about it all.

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Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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Placing his styrofoam cup on the ground, Oz shifted and turned around on the couch until he was lounging over the back, turning his full attention on Nate. The scene might seem a bit bizarre by most people's standards, Nate standing by the window, the setting sun casting a rather dramatic light effect on the scene, and Oz hanging off of the back of the couch like some discarded toy that had been thrown then forgotten by a careless child. But to Oz, this was a breath of normality in the past few strange months, and a pleased grin found itself settling on his face as Nate managed a smile that gradually grew larger. Everyone, in Oz's opinion, looked better with a smile on their face, but no one more so than his best friend whose smiles had become a rarer and rarer occurrence lately.

It was like the smile flicked a switch in Oz's mind, his uncharacteristic anxiety deflating and any tension held in his lanky frame vanishing away. This was a situation he knew, a situation he felt comfortable in; sitting around Nate's house, chatting about something, however serious, and it might not be exactly like before, but it was close enough to put him completely at ease.

"You seem so sure that you'd be kicking their asses," Oz huffed a laugh, stretching languidly. It was hard to imagine Nate fighting anyone, especially Briton's main antagonists, glorified jocks with the high school equivalent of bulging muscles. Still, the chance to talk things out was certainly a step in the right direction, which was, presumably, the direction that did not involve violence. And who knew? Maybe things could work themselves out the Oz way, the nice, peaceful way that only involved fists in the form of fist bumps. Okay, so it wasn't terribly likely, but a boy could dream, couldn't he?

"And if not, then we get a little more...'creative' about our approach."

"Nate," He groaned, drawing out his name in a faux disappointed voice. Playful smirk or not, a "creative approach" wasn't something that Oz would be looking forward to. Creative did not bode well for anyone involved, especially if those involved were his highly unpredictable friends and a handful of teenagers who got their jollies from picking on a sweetheart like Briton. Add in the alcohol and general adrenaline that characterized the parties Lacey tended to DJ at, and you had a recipe for disaster there.

However, any hint of disappointment vanished immediately with the announcement that dinner was ready. More like a dog than a person, Oz instantly perked up, face brightening considerably as he scrambled to his feet. Only Nate's voice stopped him and Oz let out another laugh. It was, sadly enough, less of an exaggeration than most people would imagine. If one thing could put a skip in Oz's lazy steps, it was food. More specifically, Nate's mother's food. What could he say? The woman could cook.

With a considerable more amount of dignity then he actually possessed, he replied, "Well, maybe I'm growing up, Nathan. You know, maturing." He kept up the facade for maybe half a second before laughing at the absurdity and taking off down the hall and towards the kitchen. Maturing. Right. Nice he might be, but for all of his calmness and patience, mature didn't quite fit in with the enigma that was Oscar Glass.

Dinner was perfect. It wasn't anything fancy, of course, and Mitzy was incessantly begging for food(which wasn't completely her fault given the fact that Oz insisted on feeding her bits and pieces from his own plate), but it was still perfect. Nate, Oz, and Nate's mother sat around the table, and the conversation flowed almost without pause in between bites of pasta and, in Oz's case, sips of milk. It hadn't been too terribly long since he'd been in this situation, but it felt like ages as he caught up with Nate's mother and Nate himself. For that time, he felt at home, really at home.

After dinner, as the minutes passed quickly by as the conversation from dinner continued in the living room, Oz took a moment to pull out his cellphone and text his parents to tell them that he'd be back late that night. He didn't need permission, not really. With his sisters' shenanigans, Oz often got lost in the fold, allowed to do whatever in the belief that he'd be a good boy and not cause any trouble. Which was fine, just fine, but didn't stop his smile from dropping for just a moment when his mother replied with a quick "Okay, dear, have fun!", not even bothering to ask where her only son was off to. His stepfather's reply was marginally better, at least asking when he'd be home and if he'd need to be picked up. Any lingering disappointment disappeared when he looked up from his phone, however, and slipped back into the conversation as if it had never happened. Because it was fine. Just fine. His parents loved him and trusted him and that was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

The party was already in full motion when they arrived, music almost imperceptible due to the noise from the crowd within and around the building, but the beat was thrumming so loudly that Oz could sweat that he felt it in his bones. It was difficult enough to stick together let alone make their way through the thriving crowd, people pressing in on them from all sides. To find anyone in the room was almost impossible. Almost. It was at times like these that Oz's height and disposition came into play. Seemingly ignorant of the gyrating bodies of those dancing or the simple movements of the crowd around him, pressing in on all sides in such a way that anyone might feel claustrophobic, Oz craned his neck, green eyes searching for familiar faces in the room. It just so happened that, rather unfortunately, the first familiar faces he found belonged to people he didn't quite want to see. Ryan Chaffon and, even more unfortunately, Vic Rockford were off with their own respective groups of friends to one side, probably laughing loudly or maybe just trying to carry on a conversation, but the noise was stolen away by the ruckus within the room. It was like fate was laughing at him, smirking down upon Oz in particularly as if to say, 'Your move.'

It was then that Oz made a significant and quite possiby stupid choice. They had to talk to them eventually, there was no getting around that given what had happened earlier and the following conversation, and who knew if he'd manage to spot them again later on in the night? Besides, maybe it would work out. Maybe if they just had a chat, everything would turn out fine and the party might be even better knowing that everything had come to a peaceful resolution. With that idealist delusion in mind, Oz grabbed Nate by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, I see Ryan and Vic over there," Oz said, gesturing with one hand towards the group, voice significantly louder than normal to be heard over the din. "If we're going to talk to them, let's talk now, okay? Then we can just have fun afterwards." Fun. Afterwards. Ha.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Amber Breth Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Paige Parker Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Samuel Westhouse
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#, as written by Savader
And there we were. At the party I had said I wouldn't be going to not even 4 hours ago. Well, I guess it wasn't so bad. Save for the annoying music that could be heard from 2 blocks down the road. And the equally, if not-- more annoying people twisting and bumping around to the lame soundtrack blasting their senses away. Then there was the booze. Yup, plenty of that, I could see. Anyone who wasn't dancing in the middle of it all was off to the sides, drinking and hitting on their peers. Oz and I made our way through the first wave of people relatively easy, but what came next seemed impossible to navigate if you're looking for specific people. Our friends were nowhere to be seen at the moment, and not even Oz in all his tall glory was able to spot any of them. I always figured it was the poor lighting. God, what was this? A house party, or a nightclub...? Even with Lacey's talented DJ skills, I couldn't get over just how incredibly loud it all was. How were you supposed to talk to people without screaming your vocal cords dry?

Just as I managed to catch sight of a short brunette that looked an awful lot like Violet, Oz snatched my wrist and held me back, directing my attention to two very specific people hanging out with their friends in a nice little corner of the room. Vic and Ryan. It was almost too perfect. The couple of asshats weren't alone, meaning they had their reputations on the line should someone decide to mess with them. Unfortunately for them, that someone happened to be me. Well, and Oz, but I pretty much already knew how this was likely going to go down with him at my side. Fingers crossed!

"Oh-- oh, yeah! I seem em!" I said. "Good eye, Oz!" Patting him on the shoulder with a smile, I decided to head their way rather than in the direction the brunette was walking off to. Better to get this over with sooner rather than later. Although, I wasn't too sure I knew what it was that I would be doing at first... I suppose I figured on talking with them to start things off, since that's what Oz and I did. "H-Hey!" I yelled at them with a wave as we approached. "How's it going, guys?" It took the two of them a moment to figure out who we were-- well, more of who I was than Oz, but like I said; poor lighting. After seeming to remember my name after giving me a 'bro point' that came along with a "Heyyy!", Ryan slapped my hand in friendly greeting.

"Uhhh, Jake, right?" he said, giving me a smile as though he and I had been best friends since grade school.

"Uh, no! Actually, it's Nate!" I yelled back, now gesturing towards my tall friend. "And this is Oz! His name is Oscar, but we just call him Oz, cuz' he's a total wizard, yo!" Wow, where the hell did that come from...?

"Ah, bitchin'!" yelled Ryan, giving Oz the same friendly hand slap that Vic gave myself. "Killer party, right? Haha!" As if to emphasize his fascination with the event, Ryan looked around with a great deal of upper body language, to which I just nodded emphatically.

"So what brings you guys to this crazy zoo, huh?" said Vic after nodding along in agreement with everything Ryan was saying, taking a drink from his beer while he was at it. "Don't normally see you two coming to this kinda scene, or am I being stupid?" You're being stupid alright, but that's neither here nor there at the moment...

"Yeah, we know the DJ! Lacey Harvelle! You know her?" I shouted back, taking hold of one of the beers Ryan had offered me and Oz. To be honest, it was a total reflex. I was the last person at that party, save for maybe Briton, who was looking to get drunk... Trust me. I am not a happy drunk...

"Uh, hell yeah we know her!" said Vic after exchanging a rather suggestive look with his buddy Ryan. "Ain't no way we don't know about a fine piece of ass like that, haha!" These guys were getting on my nerves more and more every passing second I spent LOOKING at them, nevermind talking to. But I calmed my urge to walk away; I was hellbent on seeing this through. For Briton.

"Yyyhup! That's the one!" I yelled, exchanging a roll of the eyes with Oz as Vic and Ryan laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. At the same time, no less. "Anyway, who invited you two? The same?" The next thing I did was even dumber than accepting the damn thing in the first place; I took a drink. Resisting the urge to spit it back out at the two jerks in front of me, no matter how much they deserved it, I ended up forcing myself to swallow it. If I wasted anymore time dawdling about with Briton's bullies, I was afraid I might have taken a few more.

"Heh, why do you ask?" yelled Ryan, now giving me an inquisitive smile. "I mean, we're here, aren't we? What does it matter?" He threw Vic a humorous grin and turned back to me.

"Well," I yelled back, giving them a light shrug. "It's just that I happen to be really good friends with Lace, and I know for a fact that she wouldn't knowingly invite two of the people who regularly beat up on a friend of hers!" Aaaand another sip. It was strange, but with every word that came out of my mouth, I felt like I had less and less control of my own body. My mind was there, sure, but it seemed to have little to no control over my actions. It was starting to worry me at the point of realizing this.

"Heh..." scoffed Ryan. "I don't 'beat up' on people, for one. Okay? It's all in good fun; they know that." Another laugh. "And two, you're gonna have to be a little more specific about just who it is you're talkin' about. I joke around with a looot of people at school, y'know." Oh, yeah. Believe me, jackass, I know. We all know. You just happened to "joke around" with one too many this time... Taking another sip of my drink, much to what I assumed was Oscar's bewilderment, although I didn't see on account of not having eyes in the back of my head, I nodded in response before answering with the words that would send this little confrontation directly south in a matter of seconds.

"Briton. Hadings." I said clearly, making sure both parts of the name were each heard as they were intended. This made both Vic and Ryan's smiles instantly vanish. They now appeared to be in "serious mode", or so I figured they probably called it when they were alone together. Their reaction to the name made me instinctively snort with a small chuckle as I placed my free hand inside of my pocket, feeling the silver pocket watch within it.

"Lacey's friends with that...freak?" asked Ryan, still holding up his serious face. I merely kept smiling and moved my now slightly damp-with-sweat bangs from my eyes with a brush of my thumb.

"And so am I." I said back. "Oz too." I added with a nod up at my gangly friend. Giving up the fake smile, I shrugged. "Look, we just wanna ask you to lay off him from now on, okay? He's never done anything to you, so..." I paused, shrugging again. "Think you can pick on someone your own size for once? Just an idea!" Finishing up with a nod as if to say "Yup, that's all I got", I let Oz take a crack at it while we waited for their response, not that I needed it. I was already certain that this wouldn't end the Oz way... Even with the man himself standing right next to me with one foot in the door. And that's when it started getting a bit heated. There was a pause between the changing of the tracks just behind Oz and I, and it wasn't until the next song started playing that Ryan removed his rather transparent mask and spoke up.

"Heh... How about you and 'Briton' go fuck yourselves." he said, leaning in a bit closer so as to make sure only me and Oz heard. "If you want us to stop giving Briton what he deserves, then tell him to stop being such a PUSSY." Well, that wasn't a very nice way to accept my request, now was it? That remark made my shoulders drop, and a sigh escape my lips. Now obvious that Plan B was the only reliable method towards managing to walk away with a win after all, I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, and chose to try something new; provocation.

"Hm..." I hummed softly, my pause likely not having even been heard thanks to the loud bass vibrating the walls around us. "Are you sure Briton is the pussy here? Because, the way I see it, you two are the only ones who fit that description; picking on someone who refuses to fight back...? Isn't that something only the weak do? You might as well punch a tree and call yourselves the champions of the forest!" 'Sorry for that one, Briton...' I thought to myself, feeling guilty for sounding as though I were making fun of my friend for not defending himself against his bullies, even if he weren't there to hear it.

"Oh yeah?! I'll show you weak--!!" shouted Vic, taking a step at me, only to be held back by Ryan, who seemed to find what I said to be rather intriguing. It was too easy to lure these guys into a trap. I hadn't counted on Ryan holding back his substantially larger friend, but that was only a minor bump along the road to victory.

"Hold on, Vic." he said, cracking a smile as he studied me. "Earlier you mentioned that we should pick on someone our own size, but...all I see are you..." He paused, pointing from me, and now to Oz. "...and Ronald Weasley over here. I'm afraid you're too small, and he's, well...too big. Wouldn't that just be unfair all around?" Clearly this guy held himself in some kind of holier-than-thou light, because he seemed to truly believe that he was bigger than me. Truth was, we were about the same height and overall weight. "Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" he finished, adding emphasis to his little punchline as he laughed alongside his ape of a friend. I waved off Oz's attempts at trying to get me to walk away from this before it was too late. I wasn't going to do that. Not when I was about to win this. Well, somewhat...

"Ummm, okay!" I said immediately, my eyes looking to the right as I held up a long shrug, acting as though I were either bluffing, or just really, really stupid. This made the two of them stop laughing faster than they started up. Vic quickly scowled angrily at me before slapping the drink out of my hand, much to my delight.

"You think this is a fucking GAME?!" he shouted, taking another step at me. This time, Ryan didn't hold him back. "You KNOW I'd knock you on your ass, punk!" Flexing his rather large arms with what appeared to be some sort of warm-up exercise, he gritted his teeth at me like some kind of hybrid between a dog and a gorilla. By now, our little spout had drawn the attention of a few people who were nearby chatting with their own friends.

"Won't know for sure unless you try!" I shouted back, waving off Oz once again; this time actually pushing him away to the side, for I knew what was coming next. In one swift motion, Vic Rockford's giant fist came hurdling towards me. Like most things that threatened my life this day and age, I saw it slow down to incredible speeds. Obviously time itself didn't slow down around us, and it sure wasn't Vic who decided to hold back a little, but my ability to perceive the incoming of my surroundings was almost to the level of supernatural at this point. Of course, my current body wasn't up to par with its eyes, although I was more than capable of either dodging, blocking or reversing this thug's blow without much trouble. But time was running short, and my window of opportunity was coming to a close. Now it was time for a choice; I could either A., totally own this asshole at his own game in front of all these people, announcing to the entire party that Briton was thereby under my protection and there was nothing anybody could do about it, or B., let this guy totally knock me flat so as not to come off to my friends as a super suspicious weirdo after somehow managing to fend off someone as large and terrifying as Vic Rockford.

Just as time was about to run out, I came to one hell of a conclusion with my inner self: Hey, why not do both?

"Argh!!" I exclaimed as the sound of Vic's fist colliding with my skull flooded my entire brain. I felt the grasping hands of my friend Oz as he tried to catch me but couldn't. Before I would smack into anything on my way down, my foot happened to snag onto the cord leading to the speakers that were connected to the system providing the music, causing a sudden and very dead silence to fill the room. Well, almost silent, anyway. The sound of my back meeting with the side of the DJ's stage was more than loud enough to turn a few heads in our direction. The stage having saved me from the fall being slightly dented in, I pushed myself off of it with a hand, only to be caught by Oz, who was once again likely saying something about quitting while we were ahead. Truth was, I couldn't make out anything but the ticking of my watch while my head was ringing so loudly, so I was a bit unsure of what might have been said around me. The ringing finally subsiding, I managed to make out the sounds of Vic and Ryan laughing their asses off, damn near out of breath, or so it seemed.

"That was priceless!! HAHAHAHA!! Your really stood your ground there, didn't you, bitch!" guffawed Ryan, patting Vic on the back. "Why don't you just go home, Tate-- or NATE, whatever the hell your name was!" Laughing again at my expense, Ryan managed to get a few other people laughing. That was fine-- no, it was perfect.

"Urghh..." I grunted, finally finding my footing once more as I gave my head a little shake. "Hey! I'm still standing, aren't I?!" I yelled back at him, still not used to the near silence within the room; the music still not kicking back in just yet. Giving Oz a friendly pat for trying to catch me, as well as a look that said "I'm fine, don't worry about it.", in case he was still worrying.

"Oh-ho! Ohhh, I'm afraid he's right, Vic! You said you were gonna knock him on his ass-- better see it through, don't you think?" said Ryan, humorously. Giving him a chuckle of his own, Vic stepped forward again.

"Hold it!" I shouted, the palm of my hand prominently displayed before me. "I have a proposition for you, Vic." Curving a smile of my own, I waited to hear what the giant would say to this.

"A propo-what...?" replied the big oaf.

"He means he wants to make you a deal, you dumb fuck!" said Ryan after slapping a hand over his eyes with a laugh in regards to his friend's ignorance, and then harder at the idea of me putting up a wager.

"Oh... Alright, what? If you're trying to get outta your beating, punk, then you can forget it." said Vic, flexing his arms once again. Huh, and here I was under the impression that the two of them "didn't beat up on people... So much for that statement.

"If I can pin your back to the ground within 3 seconds of your next blow, then you have to leave Briton alone from here on out." I said, holding up 3 fingers. You know, to show that I meant business. "What d'ya say? You up for the challenge?" Ryanmade a light chuckle at those words, still thinking that I was all talk, however found it strange that I would make such an outrageous bet in front of all these people. But before he could say anything to Vic, the man in question agreed in earnest.

"You're on!" he said, laughing at me.

"Great! Now no take-backs! Unless you wanna look like a total bitch in front of all these people for not holding up your end of the deal~" I sung at him, holding up a finger to add insult to injury. Of course, this just made him laugh.

"Tch, whatever! Let's just get on with it, shit-stain!" he yelled back, taking another step forward.

"Well wait, we gotta shake on it first." I said with a smile, holding out my left hand for him to accept. This was the moment when Ryan realized I was neither bluffing NOR stupid. But before he could tell Vic otherwise, it was already too late.

"Heheh, sure..." chuckled Vic, extending his right hand to grab hold of my left. And that was when the dumbass did exactly what I knew he would; he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. Thanks to him pulling me into his range, there was no longer enough room for him to get the same amount of strength into his attack as before. On top of that, the momentum of the fight was against him. All I had to do was lean forward so that his left arm went over my right shoulder, plant my free hand against his chest, hook my already extended leg around his right, pull back with it and push forward with my hand. And just like that, Vic Rockford was pinned to the ground in only 2 very quick seconds. Of course, I acted as though it was nothing more than a total fluke; my yell of the word "Whoa" having planted that idea in most of the heads in the audience. And, just to make sure it sold, I stood up and clasped my hands to my head with wide eyes.

"Holy crap, I won...!" I yelled, breathing hard, then turning my upper body left and right to look at everyone else, as if to say CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?! Needless to say, the whole crowd erupted in a large amount of drunken cheers and woos. I clasped hands with Oz, further trying to convey that it was pure accident that I managed to pin Vic down just as I had wagered I would. Jumping up and shouting his frustration at what I had accomplished, Vic shut the crowd up almost immediately. He stepped up to me again, only to stop short upon seeing Oz closer to me than before. Blinking, he looked back at me and started shouting again.

"That was a load of shit, and you know it! A total fluke!" he yelled. Jabbing his finger at me.

"Well of course it was!" I said. "But a win is still a win, dude! And fortunately for me -- unfortunate for you -- I won." I let out a nervous laugh, still acting shaken up over the whole spectacle. "And you know what the wager was~" At first ready to refute our earlier agreement, Ryan chose to cut him off, wearing a rather sour expression himself.

"He beat you fair and square, Vic." he said, now walking up to meet me by his side. "Own up to it, or else you're nothing more than a punk like him." He put great emphasis on the word, likely trying to convey that it wasn't over with just that. Conceding, albeit rather begrudgingly, Vic let out a huff of air and flung his arm up before turning away from me and Oz. The scene finally dying down and the music kicking back up thanks to someone reconnecting the cord I had pulled out by accident, all seemed well, until Ryan stepped up next to me and spoke in a low tone so that only I could hear.

"Live it up while you still can, Nathan." he began, his voice practically trembling with anger at my arrogance. "Just know that I'm not as dumb as Vic." The words that followed instantly left me stunned. "I'll say it again, only a little more clearly this time: you want me to stop messing with that little faggot Briton, then you're better off just telling him to stop being such a pussy. Because..." Pausing before his final sentence, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake that night at the party. One that I couldn't take back.. "... You didn't make that bet with me..."

I only managed to stop one of Briton's bullies... Or so it seemed. At the time, I didn't think even Vic Rockford would stoop so low as to bully someone through their personal life. I clearly underestimated the man's sense of humility... As well as his choice in targets. But more on that later...

Giving my shoulder a hard nudge with his own, Ryan waved to Vic, mumbling something along the lines of "This party turned to shit, let's get out of here.", and left with him. I was practically shaking with fear at what I might have just set in motion; my mind immediately beginning to think of every possible outcome that could be traced back to this very moment. I instantly hated myself again. Everything that had happened over the last few minutes felt like a total dream. Things weren't normal for me and my friends, they weren't fixed... And yet, somehow, I managed to fool myself into thinking that, even for just a fleeting moment at a loud party, life was simple again. I knew I would pay for my mistake later on, but worse than just that; so too would my friends...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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"Ryan Chaffon. Vic Rockwell." Violet's words came out, seething with an anger that even Briton could detect. From the moment their names passed through her lips, he felt his body hunch. It was making him nervous, making him scared; he felt small and insignificant compared to what he knew for Violet was an overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of these guys. The only thoughts that came to him were along those lines of 'what have I done? I should have never said anything, even if they were prying!' Much to his worry, she continued her rant, which began to seep into the pit of his gut and give him a terrible aching feeling down there, like he was going to be sick. "Fuck. Just fuck. I'll wipe'em out, Briton. I'm a vigilante after all."

A vigilante, huh? So that was what the girl was calling it. That was what she was calling all this irresponsible, unnecessary fighting. She couldn't just take care of her self? Couldn't leave things alone to take their own course? Why couldn't any of his friends be able to use a bit of their sense lately, it seemed? Putting herself, putting themselves, into a dangerous situation with not a single cause. None of this was effecting any of them, why would it matter? Why didn't they think Briton couldn't handle it on his own? He clenched his jaw while he watched the girl's facial expression. As if they could have taken the pain of all his tormentors, and he couldn't. Not once had he ever cried or broken down or screamed. He wasn't asking for any help, and here they were assuming he needed it. It was a recipe for disaster, wasn't it?

"I'm a fighter. A Super Hero. I kick shithead asses." She continued. His mind was distracted, while the music suddenly cut out, the room stood nearly still for a few moments while the thrusting beat had disappeared, though Violet in all her rage seemed to be too distracted to notice quite exactly what was going on. Briton vaguely searched the immediate area he could see, unable to notice much with so many heads above him, and so much distance between where he stood, and where a commotion of laughter and screeches seemed to be occurring. "So I'm sorry, Briton. Really. Shoulda known that shit was bad for you. Someone like me should've kept you safe. Stopped it from happening at all." Briton's eyes flew immediately back over to Violet, green glistening in the low lighting, emphasized only by how widely he held them open at her in all his nervousness and fear for what she was going to do. He found himself shaking his head. He had to stop this nonsense, he had to stop it right now! He opened his mouth to say something, but not a thing came out. He was finding himself at a loss, dumbfounded for anything inside his throat that could possibly come out.

She let out a cough, and almost on cue, the music had started back up, whatever technical difficulty having been fixed, and instantly causing Briton to jump once more. "Just lettin' you know, okay? I've got your back from now on." She said. "No. One. Will. Lay. Another. Fucking. Hand. On. You."

Briton took a step back from her, eyes still as wide as they could go. He didn't want this, he didn't want it at all! The last thing he wanted was to be protected, to have everyone fussing and worrying over him. They saw him so helplessly, they thought of him as a small, delicate thing that couldn't fend for itself. They weren't thinking of themselves, and in their blind rage at something they didn't understand, they weren't thinking of him either. He knew far better than to let these hotheads get involved, because by the time they figured out what was going on, all there was was "protect mode" and there just wasn't any time left for rational thinking. He heard something vaguely behind him, something that sounded much like on of his tormentors, and quickly made an attempt to step towards Violet, to grab onto her and stop her, to try and talk some sense into her before it was too late, before she did something stupid and got herself hurt! But it was already too late; Vi quickly evaded him, not even noticing his attempt to try and talk to him while she skirted around him with a small "Gotta go," and rushed off, beginning to stumble and seem a bit more incapacitated than before, towards Ryan and Vic.

Briton stared for a moment, horrified, while she connected with them and was lead out towards the exit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't stop her. He couldn't talk to her, couldn't convince her. If he had just stayed quiet, just ignored Nathan's prompting, everything would have been fine, normal, and everyone could just act as plain and fakely happy as they usually did. This was all his own stupid fault. Forget Nathan for being the idiot who wanted the answer to a question that shouldn't have mattered to him. It was Briton's fault, in the end, because he could have just said no. What could any of them really have done? They would have been mad, sure, but at least those idiots would have been safe.

His eyes scanned quickly, suddenly, until he spotted a couple of familiar faces. Briton found a sudden, odd sort of comfort when his eyes landed on Oz; that sort of feeling that made him want to duck under the other boy's arms, bury his face into his shirt and rest like that where no one could disturb him, where he could pretend that nothing wrong was happening. The feeling, however, was quite so short lived, however, and when his eyes rested down on Nate, he felt that meek anger bubbling up inside him. Not the same anger he'd felt earlier, no. Suddenly, he'd forgiven Nate for asking the mere question, for invading his privacy, for putting him on the spot, but now he was furious for another thing. He was furious that now, rather than Briton alone having to deal with the pain those neanderthals caused, more were going to have to suffer. By the looks of things, by the cooing and jeering still in the room, by the passing calls, by Nate's somewhat disheveled appearance; even this boy had already gotten a bit of the consequence of his idea of "protecting" his friend.

Briton weaved through the crowd swiftly, storming over to the other two boys until coming to a firm stop in front Nate, almost completely ignoring Oz's presence for the moment. "You're an idiot!" Briton yelled at him bitterly, shoving his hands against Nathan's chest, only to have the boy give way a step probably out of pure pity, seeing as there was no was Briton could have shoved anyone with such a lack of strength. "Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??"

He bit his lip, his whole body beginning to show how flustered he was; his brows drew together, causing creases in the skin of his forehead, his chest heaved with breaths that seemed too hard to take, his fists clenched themselves, his limbs quivered. He didn't have anything he could possibly do to fix what had happened, and he felt so powerless. Even more so than he did on any regular basis.

"Y-you just got into a fight, didn't you?" Briton finally uttered, struggling to keep his voice up above the level of the loud music, despite a shake that had begun to encroach upon his throat. "A-and Violet is going to--" He took as deep a breath as he could, trying to stop his lungs from heaving and making it hurt. He dug his top teeth into his bottom lip, rubbing one fist into his throbbing temple. "Don't you get it, yet? Why doesn't anyone realize why I don't want to tell anything to anyone, you're just putting yourselves in danger for no good reason." He shook his head, fully aware that his voice had begun to change to something in between that of a moan and a whine.

He tried to bring in another uneasy breath, but all that came was a round of sudden coughing, forcing him to bend over at the waist, gasp for air, put a hand to his ribs while they ached with each heave of the lungs. God, it hurt. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to go home. His inhaler would have helped. This kind of scene, partnered with his sudden, choking emotions was just getting to be too much. He knew this was going to end badly, and here was just the icing on the cake. Gasping, and forcing himself to straighten out, he took a step away from the other two boys, trying to maintain perhaps an ounce of dignity while he could still pretend he had some in the first place. He closed his eyes, one hand pressing down to his own forehead, the other reaching out and grabbing Oz's wrist for support.

"I have to go home," He breathed out, his words barely even coming out at all, though even without being heard, it was probably too obvious what they were. "I have to go..." His thoughts wavered over to Charlie for a moment, thinking about how he'd told the other boy that he could text him when he was ready to go. He wasn't in any condition for waiting around for that text anymore, now was he? He felt hoarse, he couldn't get words out anymore. When he opened his eyes, the room was harder to see in, the floor seemed to pull at him more. Was he even in condition to drive at all, he wondered? Turning away to look through the crowd absently, and not really processing much of anything he saw while he did so, his hand didn't leave where it rested weakly gripping Oz's wrist.

"I need to tell Charlie I'm leaving," He uttered as loudly as he could manage, before bending slightly again, his hand finally leaving Oz's wrist to cover his mouth while he struggled through the breaths for a few moments. He dropped the hand down to his side after a moment, and shook just a bit. "I hope I can find him soon..." I don't know how much more of this I can take...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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#, as written by Savader
This whole thing was already beginning to spin into what would eventually become yet another disaster. Only this time, it was because I wasn't thinking straight when I chose to handle it my way. It was like something else had taken control of me, moving my body to how it saw fit. Still a little shaken, I let out a breath of air and shook my head slightly while thinking of what to do, how to fix my mistake. Tch, this mistake... I already had plenty of those that span over the last 100 years. This wasn't any different, other than its immediate importance: Vic and Ryan had to be stopped further yet. But it wasn't going to be as easy as luring them into a weak proposition such as the one I made with Vic just then. No, it would take more than that. Much more. I figured it would only end one of two ways; either I go the full 9-yards and beat them both senseless, which is something that I would rather not have to do... Or... I could kill them. My eyes narrowed at the thought of being able to even think of such a thing. I could do it, yes, but would I really be capable of taking two teenage lives just to save the life of one of my friends...? Either way, I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with it, and I was absolutely no good to anyone if I were behind bars...

It wasn't until Briton had showed up, angry upon seeing the obvious outcome of what had just happened. Calling me an idiot, he gave me a light shove, which sent me stumbling a few steps back on account of my weakened knees, where I again stopped with my shoulder hitting the DJ stand. Although, thankfully, this time the cord wasn't unplugged. Barely moving or breathing, I just stared at Briton with a vacant expression as he told me what he thought. I couldn't blame him, really. I mean, he was right, in a way. Sure, friends were supposed to help friends, but was I really helping him...? Wouldn't it have just been better to have asked him what he wanted to do about it, rather than to take matters into my own hands without prior intel on what it was I was getting myself into? Well, I didn't care about what happened to me in the long run, so I was alright with getting a little pummeled here and there, but not if that meant Briton would be suffering even more later on...

While not locking eyes with him, I gave a small, silent nod as to his question regarding whether or not a fight had just taken place. From there, he went on to express himself further, but after a certain utterance of words, I was no longer listening. I couldn't even hear the sound of my own voice properly after what had just started dancing around in my head. My heart tightened, my eyes unfocused and my breathing became more apparent. He mentioned Violet. In regards to what was going on now. Which meant that it involved Vic and/or Ryan, which made me want to freak out in fear of the possibilities that scenario would result in. But I did feel my lips move and my throat vibrate with the evidence that I was speaking, although I must not have been heard, as Briton continued to rant about my stupidity, which I totally agreed was true. However, something more important than getting the scolding I deserved became apparent...

"What...?" I said, sounding lost. "Violet's doing what...?" I continued, now straightening up a bit. I tried getting the boy's attention a few times, but he was soon lost in his own thoughts as he began having something of a panic attack of his own. Waiting for him to calm down slightly, I grabbed his shoulders and looked fiercely into his eyes. "Listen to me-- WHERE is Violet? What is she going to do?" I spoke clearly. Now finally noticing my presence once more, since I was literally right in his face, he told me, albeit with obvious contempt over still being mad at me for what I had done. It was as if all noise around me had died down until the only thing I heard with certainty was Briton's words. My eyes widened at that, my mouth slightly agape as I stumbled back yet again, only this time it was of my own volition. 'Oh, no...' I thought. 'Oh, no, no-- NO! This can't be happening! What have I done?' I shouted at myself inside my head. I knew it was my fault, even if all I did to cause this part of the night had been simply because I had Briton tell me who was hurting him. My worst fears were being realized, and the last birthday hadn't even arrived yet. Could this be an intervention by the curse? A change in the rules...?

Not wanting to believe such a thing, I pulled out my pocket watch with visibly shaky hands. The watch was still ticking just fine, so there was at least hope. But that wasn't to say that we couldn't die by regular means before the game started... I had to find her; stop her from getting involved. Because even if she turned out to not be in immediate danger tonight, there was still the very strong possibility of what she did during its hours, which would come back to bite her in the very near future... I couldn't wait for her to seal her fate because of my mistake. I couldn't let her die because of me yet again...

Without saying another word to either Briton or Oz, I moved between them, heading for the door that was at the end of several twisting bodies. Wading through them as if I were in some deep, leech infested swamp, I made for the front yard. Stopping me on the way was a girl who looked to be a few years out of high school, asking me to dance with her. I didn't want to be rude, but dammit, there was something far beyond important to me at that moment in time. As politely as I could, I refused her request and continued on, much to her indifference. Finally reaching the door, I jogged outside where a small group of teenagers were chatting it up over a few beers.

"Hey!" I said, coming to a halt, already glistening with sweat I wasn't aware of back inside the house. "Did you see a short brunette leave with a couple of guys? Might know em-- Vic Rockford and Ryan Chaffton?" I asked them, looking back and forth between two of them. Smiling, they told me what they knew.

"Oh, uh... Yeah, I think so?" one of them said, scratching his temple with his index finger. "I saw Vic and Ryan carrying off some drunk chick to their car before driving off, but I didn't get a good look at her." My eyes widened once more as the two of them smiled again. Was I too late...?

"Where did they go!?" I shouted. "Which direction did they leave in?" The two guys then suddenly looked a little unsure of me.

"Um... What's it to you, anyway? She your girlfriend or something?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. This was such a pain; couldn't these two assholes just tell me? I mean, they say they saw a drunk chick, and my current state was obviously one of fear, not excitement, so why withhold information that could save a young girl? The people of this century were unbelievable...

"Yeah, she's my girlfriend." I said without hesitation. Anything to speed things up. Even if that meant lying to people I didn't know or care about. "Now which way did they go?"

"Ah, shit, man. Uhhh..." he said, pausing to looking behind him towards the road in front of the house, now pointing awkwardly to the right. "That way, I think." Growling a little at his uncertainty, I followed his point.

"You're sure?" I asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Yeah, definitely." spoke the other boy. "Ryan's house is about 4 blocks up that way, so that makes sense." Nodding along with him, I chose to trust in his words, not wanting to waste anymore time.

"Thanks!" I said, giving one of them a pat on the shoulder before jogging into the street. I looked ahead to see if I could make out any tail lights, but there were none to be seen from either end. Giving another frustrated growl, I took off up the road in the direction I was told they went. It had been awhile since I ran so hard, and with so much purpose. Not since 19 years ago... The street was practically void of light, save for a few breaks in the trees that towered over me from either side; streetlamps were standing erected on the side walk every few yards, but other than that, I could barely see anything until my eyes began to adjust to the lack of proper lighting. With each step I took towards the unknown destination I was heading for, I became more worried. With every hardened breath of air I inhaled, I was reminded of my past lives more vividly, as though I were still there, trying to beat the clock in my head... But I had to reassure myself that, at the very least, it wasn't a sure thing that Violet was going to die tonight, since the game hadn't even started yet. I had to have faith in her. I had to believe that she wouldn't do anything anywhere near as stupid as what I had done not 5 minutes ago... I had to hope that my friend was okay.

I continued running down the empty street, the sound of the party that was a couple of blocks behind me still having been loud enough for me to faintly make it out. I was beginning to panic again, wondering if I had been told a lie by those two boys, simply because they didn't believe Violet was my girlfriend or something. And then I began to think on it more. What if those guys were friends of Ryan and Vic's...? What if they told me to go the wrong way because they were in on some kind of plot that involved those two assholes getting revenge on me for Vic's humiliation at the party? They had to have known that Violet and I have been friends since childhood, right? At least they would have noticed it after I became a person of interest to them, wouldn't they...? They would have made the connection, surely. If they knew who both Violet and I were, even just a little, then it was safe to assume that they also knew we were close based on seeing us together at school.

"Dammit!" I shouted at the empty street, trying not to think about the worst that could happen. "VIOLET!!" I shouted once more, my voice becoming hoarse as I hoped that she would hear me somehow, no matter how far away she might have been. I was afraid. More than just me, though... Something stirred deep within me. Something that wasn't entirely...me. I ignored that feeling as best I could up until that point, but it was becoming stronger. My was heart pounding with more than just the adrenaline that came with running as fast and as hard as my body would allow. The only thing on my mind was Violet's future. A future that could be traced back to my carelessness. A future that I inevitably caused... A future where she was no longer in my life. And that's when I realized that those thoughts weren't my own. I had lost this person more than once before-- as I did with everyone else, but Nathan Miller had never lost Violet Haring before... He had never lost any of his friends. For some reason... I was focusing solely on the fact that this version of her would be gone forever. At the time, I hadn't given it much thought, but the truth of the matter was... Nathan Miller wouldn't be allowed the luxury of seeing that girl's soul in another body, unlike me. Because Violet would only ever be Violet. For him, he would never see her again once she was gone...

That particular scary thought was something I remember once having, myself... And it's something I still think about to this very day...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller Character Portrait: Lacy Harvelle
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Following behind Nate in the crowded room was no small feat, weaving past closely packed bodies that were in constant motion, the incessant beat of the music pulsating throughout the room like it had its own heartbeat. Idly, Oz wondered why the cops hadn't been called by irritated neighbors at this point. The town was small enough that you could probably hear the pure noise from the party as far away as his own house.

It was up to Nate to take point on this little mission, which, much later Oz would harbor some regrets about. However, at that moment, with all the bro-fueled friendliness the greeting got them (perhaps fueled by a bit of a drunken haze, but, hey, no judge), Oz could only offer up his typical lazy smile and a bit of a wave, which quickly morphed into a more bemused smile because what on Earth was Nate saying? "Total Wizard, yo"? But it worked, Ryan crowing enthusiastically before giving Oz a friendly hand-slap. Everything was going smoothly so far, and Oz allowed himself to relax even further if that was at all possible. This could work. This could totally work.

So, when Ryan continued on with, "Killer party, right? Haha!", Oz grinned as if he were talking with a life-long friend instead of a the guy who'd been harassing Briton.

"Man, that's an understatement," He replied, nodding his head and following Ryan's gaze. So maybe loud and crowded parties fueled by adrenaline and booze weren't Oz's cup of tea (the mere fact that he thought things like 'cup of tea' being a primary reason), but this party was enthusiastic and rocking, the creme de la creme of parties if he was any judge.

From there on, Oz kept quiet, watching the conversation unfold. He couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes with the Lacey comment because seriously? Fine piece of ass? If Lacey had heard them, Oz was reasonably sure they'd be nursing more than just a hangover tomorrow. It was like Ryan, Vic, and their little group were walking, talking stereotypes in an after school special, convinced that making lewd comment about women and harassing nice kids like Briton actually made sense in the real world. And maybe he should have said something, should have stepped in and taken over the conversation so that calmer heads would prevail. However, with each sip of generic alcohol Nate took, any good feelings that he'd brokered at the beginning of this conversation began to vanish. Oz could only nod in agreement about Briton being their friend because, well, if he wasn't their friend, why would they be having this conversation in the first place.

"Yup, that's all I got." Even before he opened his mouth, Oz knew that this wasn't going to end well. The friendly atmosphere had effectively dissolved until only a latent animosity was left behind. Still, with all of his ill-placed optimism, Oz had to try. I mean, it could work out, couldn't it?

"I mean, Briton's a nice guy, you know? I'm sure whatever the problem is, we could talk it out. I know you guys are cool, and we're not here to start a fight, so why don't we just keep cool and figure this out, alright?" There was an awkward silence where the music track was begin switched, and, as Ryan's face evolved into something akin to a sneer, Oz knew that the time for negotiations had disappeared a few minutes after they came to the party. His whole rational speech, calm smile, and friendly words may have worked in some other cases, but right now? Not a snowball's chance in Hell.

Now things were escalating quickly, manly pride, testosterone, and liquid courage on Ryan and Vic's side mixing with Nate's fervent desire to defend their friend and the emotion of the situation into a dangerous situation. Maybe calmer heads were prevailing, Oz had to hope when Ryan held his friend back, but those hopes were quickly dashed because whatever Ryan had in mind? Yeah, all Ron Weasley comments aside(the joke was, of course, on him. Oz liked Ron, thanks very much), probably not good. His pride was magnificent to watch, though, smaller than Oz by a few inches and about Nate's size, but maybe he thought that his ego gave him extra strength.

"Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" Oh, Lord. They just had to challenge Nate, didn't they? Sure he was more their size and Oz was… well, not, but did they really have to choose the person who wanted to fight?

"Nate, man, just forget it," Oz was almost pleading with him at this point, a hand placed solidly on his best friend's shoulder. "This isn't going to end well, let's just go, okay? You shouldn't do this." But even his patent face of Ozzie disapproval that usually worked so well when his friends were about to do something stupid, was ineffective.

Everything was happening too fast now, some stupid game with rules being set up, and then fists were flying. It was all going by too fast, too fast to catch Nate as he fell backwards, back meeting the stage with a resounding crack that Oz could only hope was the temporary booth and not his best friend. But now, now Oz could keep up with what was happening as a near silence fell over the room, and he quickly pulled Nate to his feet, and was, quite unlike his usual self, a flurry of motion, but not at random. Oh, no, each move was calculated and with a certain calmness that no other person in this room possessed because Oz was good in a crisis. He really was. Checking what was surely going to be a nasty bruise on Nate's head, glancing down at the dented DJ stage, all the while whispering, "Nate, come on, let's go. You don't have anything to prove. This is only going to get worse, let's go, let's go."

But Nate only pulled away with a friendly pat and a smile, throwing himself back into the conversation. Now he was proposing a deal, a deal with people who thought that picking on people was fun and that punching someone in the head was even more so. But maybe it wasn't too insane, maybe Nate did have a plan because now he was picking at one of their greatest weaknesses- their pride. If he could pull this off, miraculous thought it may be because Nate wasn't a fighter, maybe it could work…?

And, just like that, he did. Vic went toppling over and there was a moment of disbelieving silence before the room erupted in drunken cheers, whoops of excitement that the underdog had won, or maybe just thrilled that they got to see a fight. Nate seemed as surprised as anyone, perhaps a little too much so, but he was clasping Oz's hand, and the taller boy could only squeeze back, surprise evident on his own face. Even Vic struggling back to his feet couldn't quell the excitement as he took a few steps towards them before stopping short, and maybe Oz just realized why. He was looming closer over Nate's shoulder now, nearly pressed against him in the small space provided by the enthusiastic mob. Was someone seriously scared of him? Seriously? Oz hadn't fought anyone since, what, the second grade, and that had been more of a play fight than anything.

Everyone was dispersing now, slowly going back to whatever they'd been doing as the music restarted and Ryan managed to pull Vic back from, if not starting a round two, then just shouting stupidly. But any peace that had come from this fight vanished in just a few words as Ryan walked over to Nate and hissed out a threat before vanishing with his posse to lick their wounded prides. Nate was slightly trembling now, and Oz bit his lip, hand reaching out to wrap around Nate's shoulders only to meet with empty space. Briton, who against all odds had decided to come, had given Nate a push and was clearly furious with him, spitting out accusations and then there was something about Violet that Oz didn't understand. He must have been the only one not in the loop because Nate was off like a shot and Oz was left alone with Briton who was, well, who was having some sort of asthma attack, and since when did Briton have asthma?

Briton was wheezing, grabbing onto Oz for support, but it was like Oz wasn't even there. He basically hadn't been there since the party started and he'd spotted Ryan and Vic on the other side of the room, words going mainly unheard, helping people up, not being told anything as Briton and Nate had their half conversation that had Nate racing away, and now begin used as a physical support for Briton who seemed to have forgotten that Oz was more than just a standing post for the moment. And that was fine. It was all fine. It didn't bother him at all. Not one… not one bit. At least he could help here. He could do that.

He wrapped a gangly but solid arm around Briton who was bent over and struggling to breathe.

"Briton." His voice was calm, too calm as he bent over as well until he was on the same level as Briton. "Briton, I'm going to get you home. Let me text Charlie, okay? Then we'll go to your car and I can take you home. Can you move now? It's fine if you just need to stay here for a minute." His tone was soothing as he rubbed Briton's back in calming circles because he didn't know what else to do and he wasn't about to move Briton or send off a text until he was sure his first call shouldn't be to 911. Was this asthma? A lingering cough? He had no idea, but he could certainly pretend like he did.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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Charles Hill


"You're weird today."Briton's words cut through the air nearly sending Charlie's heart thumping out of his chest at the sudden visit of unwelcome words. Charlie looked down at his shoes feeling his face growing red.

Was it really that obvious? Charlie wondered sneaking a glance at Briton who was crawling akwardly and cutely onto his bed before he fumbled with the tv remote. He really needed to get better at hiding his feelings, Charlie noted trying to straighten up and act as if the words didnt bother him the best way he could.

"I um... uh..." Briton mumbled seeming to be a bit apologetic before claiming they were going to watch a movie.

Charlie only shrugged just happy that the subject was being changed.

Actually enjoying the pick of the movie Charlie watched it intently, his mind slowly fading into the movie as he slipped away from his life problems and into the action and adventure of the fifth element.

"I just gotta change my clothes, I almost forgot." Charlie nodded not really grasping what Briton had said as he continued to watch the end of the movie, to engrossed in it to understand his words.

Charlie's brow furrowed at the sudden flurry of flying pants passing through his peripheral vision. Turning in his seat his eyes landed on a half naked Briton, his shirt beginning to be pulled over his head. He looked even more scrawny and small than Charlie imagined, though its not really like Charlie had ever imagined what his friend looked like naked....

Bruises lay across his bare skin some looking newer than others.

"Briton..." Charlie whispered horrified.

The boy turned giving Charlie the cold shoulder as he pulled on socks.

"Alright, come on," Briton finally said after what felt like an eternity to Charlie. Getting up silently and following Briton out his apartment and to the car, the air became thick and awkward.




The loud sound of the music drifted out the house and across the street greeting Charlie where he sat in Briton's car parked about a house down from the teenage crowded party.

"Ready?" Charlie asked gently, concerned at the way his friend seemed to be growing pale just looking at the crowds of people.

Charlie hopped out of the car, deciding on giving Briton as much time as he needed to get out the car and build up to go into the party where no doubtfully Briton's aggressors would be.

"I'm only going in for a few minutes! I'll probably leave early, too, so just text me if you need a ride home later." Briton called receiving a thumbs up from Charlie before the loud blonde sunk into the bodies of people.

"Hey Charles man what's up?" Charlie was greeted as soon as he entered the sea of people, turning around to find the sound of the voice he grinned at his auburn haired friend. "Hey Mike."

"Man where've you been?" Mike asked after giving his friend a bro hug.

Charlie shrugged as his eyes involuntarily scoped the room for Briton.

"Jake's already upstairs gettin some." His friend smirked at him before pointing at a group of girls who were giggling and chatting as they sipped from cups in their hands. "Punch's already spiked, though most people just went straight for the alcohol."

"Damn guessed I missed a lot then." Charlie muttered as his eyes traveled down a girls body who was wearing one of the tightest tank tops and shortest shorts he had ever seen. Another grin made its way across his face as he realized he was checking a girl out and actually liked it. I knew I wasn't gay, Charlie thought relieved.

The faint nudge of an elbow to his ribs made Charlie break his gaze from the girl and look over at Mike.

"Two girls, three o'clock. I call the one on the right." Mike muttered before throwing a slight smirk on.

Charlie quickly ran a hand through his hair out of habit.

"Hey boys." A petite looking brunette said her words slurring together, already heavily intoxicated.

"Ladies." Charlie smiled, first checking out the small brunette before glancing over at the taller punk looking girl, her hair a jet black.

The punk looking girl muttered something under breath and rolled her eyes. She looked like she could careless about being here, and she just so happened to be the girl on the left.

"You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?" Mike asked leaning in towards the brunette nonchalantly as he spoke.

The girl giggled slightly. " I sit next to you in english, silly."

"Oooo how are you going to recover from that one." The other girl chuckled amused.

"Alli, quit it." The brunette hissed receiving a glare from Alli, as the two began to try and stare the other one down.

"Why don't we go dance." Mike interrupted the two smoothly.

"Uhh sure," The brunette smiled. "Why dont you look after my friend while I'm away." She daintly placed a hand on Charlie's forearm, but kept her eyes on Alli, before walking off in Mike's arms.

"Well guess that just leaves you and-" Charlie stopped midsentece as the girl began to walk away. "Hey where are you going?" He gently grabbed the girls forearm. Only to be roughly shaken off. "Where do you think I'm going." Alli rolled her eyes and stared at Charlie as if he was dumb. "Unlike my ditzy friend, I don't roll that way." With that she walked off leaving Charlie standing there with his mouth open.

The sudden absence of music only breaking him out of his trance as he looked away from Alli's retreating figure.

"What the?" He muttered, lightly touching his ears feeling weird that the loud pounding of music that had accompanied him since he walked in was gone. Making his way over to the crowd of people, Charlie stood on his tippy toes, unable to get a good view, he did his best to push through people, but was still unable to really see anything.

"Hey Trevor what going on here?" Charlie asked spotting one of his friends who was now cheering with the rest of the people around him.

"Some random guy just showed Vic Rockford up." Trevor laughed obviously stoked at the notion.

"Who?" Charlie asked appalled at the idea of someone wanting to try and show up the popular, muscled jock.

"Ehh, I don't know, I think his name is somethin that starts with an N."

Charlie's eyes widened, Nate. He didnt. There were a lot of people at the party with a name beginning with the letter N, but Charlie had a strong feeling that Nate was the one who had 'showed Vic up'. He could have at least called me for backup. Charlie thought slightly annoyed.

The sudden return of music only made Charlie more annoyed as he tried to push through the crowds of people.

"Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??" Charlie caught the fragment of a conversation as he spotted Nate, Oscar and Briton.

"Hey Charlie want to dance?" A girl suddenly blocked his path a drink was firmly clutched in her hand, while the other was now pressed against the blonde's chest.

"Not right now." Charlie answered irritated as he watched Nate dash out the door.

"What's stuck up your ass?" The girl growled back before moving on.

Charlie began walking again, picking up his pace as he watched Briton double over coughing. He only slowed down slight after seeing the dyed blonde grasp Oz's wrist and then altogether come to a complete stop as he watched Oz rub Briton's back.

Charlie's heart dropped as he watched the two. Briton probably enjoyed the physical encounter between him and Oz, it probably wasnt awkward as it had been between them when they were at his house. Briton was probably even smiling, just the way he had when Oscar had ruffled his hair, well if he could with the lack of air he was getting, either way he was probably enjoying it.

Charlie began walking again, pushing past the two and unnecessarily shoving Oz as he exited the house.

That party was lame anyway, Charlie thought sourly kicking a rock as he walked alone down the dark sidewalk. Why did he even care what Briton and Oscar did together. They were both friends they could do whatever the hell they wanted together, he had no say.

Letting out a frustrated breath he roughly pulled a hand through his hair yanking out a few strands in the process.

"VIOLET!!" A clearly frustrated and worried voice rang through the streets barely reaching Charlie's ears.

"Nate?!" Charlie called out thinking he recognized the voice.

The voice sounded distress and Charlie was pretty sure it was Nate, he had seen him dash out of the house, so it would make sense.

Charlie began running, calling Nate's name out again, hoping his friend and Violet were okay.

At least this situation was something to keep his mind off of Briton and Oz who were probably all over each other by now. Charlie picked up speed at the thought just barely making out a running figure in front of him. There was no way he would catch up to him, he was already starting to lose his breath not use to the sudden heavy exercise. Well at least he could try, he had already let Nathan down in the brawl against him and Briton's bullies, he wasnt going to do it again.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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Briton tried his best to take a deep breath, to take any breath at all, while Nathan grabbed at his shoulders to try and steady him, to try and get him to backtrack a moment further in the conversation. Briton, on the other hand, the color in his lips fading and the room spinning slightly, felt as though he were going to crumble in his friend's grip, and would have collapsed if it weren't partially holding him upright at the small moment. "Listen to me-- WHERE is Violet? What is she going to do?"

"Sh-she left with Vic and Ryan," Briton managed, his rib-cage quivering while the statement had to be forced out. When Nathan released him suddenly, taking off without a single word, Briton found himself losing his footing slightly, trying to cover up the action with a step before finding himself hunched again, his face to his elbow, his chest heaving out coughs. Forget about telling Charlie about leaving, he simply had to leave. He couldn't take any more, and the air only seemed to grow heavier and more difficult to take in. It was a disgusting combination of painful music, teenage body oder, and booze. He felt like vomiting.

He was only vaguely aware of Oz's presence still next to him until the gentle hand came down on him, softly and soothingly rubbing his back to try to comfort him. Oz, who Briton was almost sure would have raced right on after Nate to help him find Violet, had not moved a single inch away from him. "Briton." Oz said, and for the moment, Briton stopped coughing while he tried to hone in on that voice of his, tried to ignore the headache which threatened to split him in two. He still struggled, his lungs taking abnormal breathes and feeling as though the air were getting stuck in his throat and not moving down, but he at the very least quieted himself. "Briton, I'm going to get you home. Let me text Charlie, okay? Then we'll go to your car and I can take you home. Can you move now? It's fine if you just need to stay here for a minute."

He forced himself to straighten up, trying his best to hold his body still though it seemed that all the tenseness managed to achieve was making him shake more. He gave a pause, trying to compose himself before absentmindedly nodding his head, which in itself felt too heavy for the rest of him in general, and he had to stop for a moment, before nodding once again after his mind caught up with his body. "Yeah. Yeah I think I'll be okay," his voice was a mere wisp as it came out barely audible, though Oz must have heard something, gotten the message somehow, because the arm on his shoulder pulled him a little nearer and began coax him towards the door, gently and slowly, to be sure that no more stress was about to befall his body before he was even outside, before he was even home. It was mere seconds - or felt like mere seconds, though time seemed to be going in slow motion, and movement seemed a hazy blur - before a figure of blonde hair and decent stature passed by, causing a jolt to Oz that even Briton could vaguely feel through the physical connection between them at the moment. Was that Charlie? He tried to brush off the notion. If that was Charlie, then the other boy could probably guess by the state of Briton that he was leaving. It was fine.

Blinking a few times at the sight of his car, he tried to process what was going on as best he could. He was already there? Oz was... Oz was going to drive him home instead. Even if the other boy was drunk, Briton figured, he would still have done a better job driving. Trying to gasp in breaths of the outside air, though only feeling slightly worse at what must have been light pollen in the air, or humidity, or dryness... Whatever it was, though better than the air inside, was still heavy and scratchy in his throat, while he put on hand over his mouth, the other hand was left to fumble around in his pockets until they found the keys, and he promptly slipped them into his friend's hand. He distanced himself from Oz, finally, while he traversed around towards the passenger side - a place he only ever really took whenever his brother was in town - though stopped in the middle of his journey to cough a few more times, bending slightly at the waist and leaving his hand in place while he straightened up and finished the trip, sliding into the seat and making a lazy attempt at buckling in.

The ride home, he was quiet. Oz was quiet. Or at least, Briton thought he had been, either that or his aching skull was nullifying the words. Instead of speaking, the time was spent lying partially sideways, breaths shuddering while his eyes simply watched Oz the whole way home; watching him drive, watching him glance over with concern any time Briton made some kind of cough or noise. Even if Oz was worried, even if he was causing some kind of problem and needed help again, he didn't so much mind Oz coming to his rescue quietly; Oz didn't pry, he didn't ask questions, it was like the reason didn't matter at all. He could help without making some big scene about it, and then at the same time, Briton supposed he just liked having the boy's attention. And who could have really blamed him? It was nice to have some attention that didn't turn into some ridiculous over-dramatic scene. He wasn't being interrogated or put on the spot, he was just... being helped... And that was nice.

When the car finally came to a stop, Briton groggily sat up and unbuckled, fumbling on the handle of the door for a moment before pushing out of the car and making a quick - the quickest he possibly could - effort towards the old wooden staircase. He hesitated before stepping onto it, the normal fear of it toppling over settled into his aching, quivering chest, while he slowly stepped onto the first landing, before trying to go upward as quickly as he possibly could, only stopping slightly when he tripped on one of the creaking middle steps to let out a couple of deep coughs, and pausing once more at the top landing, only the realizing that Oz still had his keys to get in, and promptly stepped out of the way slightly so the other boy could step onto the landing and hand them over.

He fumbled with them for a moment, before pushing through the door and barely remembering to hold the door open so that Oz could get in, and, not bothering to take off his shoes or try focus on anything specific in the room. He simply dropped the keys in his hands to the ground and made a straight track for his messy bedroom. The only evidence of his struggle for the short moment was the lack of coloring in his face, the tiny thrashing movements to his chest, the shaking in his limbs, though he made no sort of big deal about it while he pried open the old door and trudged through the mess over to the small dresser in the room, putting his hands against the top drawer and hesitating, looking back at the boy who'd followed him inside. "C-could you just..." He swallowed, he tried to get a breath. It was difficult to run a full sentence with no air in his lungs to expel. "...g-get me some water?"

When Oz had retreated from the room to do as was requested, Briton yanked the drawer out from the dresser, stepping back with a jolt while it slid completely out and crashed against the floor, its contents scattering and jumbling about, most of which falling out. Heart still pounding, world still spinning, he dropped to his knees, raking through objects until he found his inhaler, and put it quickly to his lips while he struggled to stand himself up, though quickly had to settle for sitting on his bed instead, which proved far easier. Eyes closed, and taking a moment to calmly blow out what little air was in his lungs, he pressed his fingers down on the top and breathed in the contents deeply, holding in the breath for as long as he could while he dropped his hand with the object to his side. Letting out the breath, and beginning to feel the oxygen in the air fill his lungs a little more normally with the quick breaths that followed, he felt at least a little better.

Not bothering to open his eyes, and fully knowing that Oz had probably re-arrived in the room, Briton chucked the inhaler to the floor, collapsing backwards on his bed to lay down on it. He tried simply to focus on his breaths, in and out, slow and deep. Little by little the color was coming back to him, his lips turning that soft pink color once again, a flush coming into his cheeks. He still shook slightly, though it was far less noticeable. His chest hurt like hell, but at least it wouldn't for much longer. The spinning feeling was slowing down, his thoughts were starting to make sense again. Feeling almost like he'd regret it, he opened his eyes, tilting his head so that he could spot Oz in the room, though he quickly rolled over on his side, eyes averting shamefully. What a problem he'd caused for his friend. Oz... Oz, who'd probably have been racing off after Nathan if it hadn't been for Briton's sudden attack, who probably would have preferred Nathan's company, even if it was just more 'trying to be a hero,' and who probably felt as neutral towards Briton as he did towards something like a plant.

"Sorry," Briton muttered, his words coming out quietly, though he didn't really worry about it, seeing as there weren't any noises to obstruct a conversation in the quiet apartment. "About that, and... that you had to help me." He sat up, still trying to avoid Oz's gaze as of the current moment, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and staring downward. A shudder ran through his chest, causing his inhale to be distorted for a small moment, though it thankfully returned to normal, and Briton payed it little mind. He simply had to stay calm, not get emotional or have any kind of breakdown, avoid too much that would stress him out. He'd be fine, it'd be alright. At least he wasn't at the stupid party, but he couldn't help but think that he'd inadvertently ruined everyone's night through all this nonsense. They could have just had fun if it weren't for him saying anything, right? Oblivious and happy, right? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have run off with Ryan and Vic... He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. "This is all my fault."

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Character Portrait: Charles Hill Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass Character Portrait: Nathan Miller
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In the midst of the party, the scene between Briton and Oz seemed inconsequential. Around them, the mass of people were talking, drinking, dancing, all clustered tightly together. The music still pulsated throughout the house, the song unknown, muffled by the mass of people within, but the beat thrummed through the very floor like an elevated heartbeat, spurring on the revelry and the gyrating, dancing bodies within the darkened room. No one spared the little dramas within the room any notice, dull attentions too wrapped up in the next drink, the next song, the next fight that might break out in the room fueled by sex, drugs, and alcohol. And even if they had, what would they have seen? A boy who had too much of one of the many sinful delights circulating around the party? Someone who couldn't hold their liquor?

But, for all the chaos around them, Oz's sole focus was on Briton, apparently just as ignorant of the people moving maybe four feet away from him as they were of him. The other boy was trying to straighten up now, but, even if Oz hadn't been able to see him, he could feel him trembling violently beneath his hand. Oz didn't have experience with medical emergencies apart from scrapes and scratches from a dozen minor accidents, and he was beginning to feel out of his depth. However, his freaking out about this wasn't going to help anyone, so he steadied his own hand, pushing back anxiety into that dark little corner of his mind to be ignored.

Briton's head was bobbing now, perhaps unconsciously as he struggled for breath. He whispered something that was lost among the cacophony of sound swirling around them, but his nods became more definite, more defined until it was a very clear yes. Well, that was that. Straightening up, Oz wrapped an arm around Briton's shoulder, wrapped around his friend like a security blanket or a shield against the outside world. Looking around for the exit, the door seemed to be miles away in the maze of people, but Oz was nothing if not patient with the situation. With a single-minded determination, he began to move, slowly ushering Briton along with him, through the throngs of people. Despite their slow and steady pace, they were only a short ways away from the door before anything happened. Someone crashed into Oz causing the taller boy to stagger back, loosening his grip on Briton and causing an apology to tumble automatically off of Oz's lips. His head quickly turned to see who'd bumped into him, only to see a blond boy disappear into the crowd. Was that Charlie…? Oz brushed off the idea. There was no way that was Charlie. For one, he hadn't stopped to ask after Briton who was obviously not doing well. And, for another, he hadn't stopped to tease Oz for apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. With that in mind, he made a mental reminder to text Charlie like he'd promised Briton.

Outside of the house, the world was almost muted, the music from within escaping through any way possible but overall much more quiet. Oz couldn't guess what temperature it was outside, but compared to the sweaty humidity of the party, it seemed to be delightfully cool. He had no problem finding Briton's car despite the other vehicles haphazardly parked around the home. Oz might not have been a car person, but once you started associating them as "Briton's Car" or "Nate's Car", it became easier to distinguish them after the many rides they'd given him when his car had been lent to his older step-sister. When they'd actually made it to the car, he was almost startled by the keys being slipped into his hand. Oh. Oh, right. He was driving. It only just struck him that he didn't have his license on him. Well, he would just have to drive safely, now wouldn't he?

Briton was shuffling to the passenger seat now and Oz couldn't help but gaze worriedly at him as he made his way around the car, stopping to cough halfway to his destination. It wasn't until Briton actually got into the passenger's seat that Oz followed his example. Sitting in the driver's seat was a bizarre experience given that he'd only ever been stuck in the back or, on the occasion where it was just the two of them, in the passenger seat. He almost commented on it, to lighten up the situation, but the anecdote withered in his throat when he looked over to see Briton gazing dully back. Well. Well, that could certainly wait.

The vaguely familiar drive to Briton's house was quiet, the silence broken only by Briton's coughing spells that drew Oz's attention with ever wheezed breath. Still, however, he stayed calm, fingers tapping unconsciously on the steering wheel to no particular beat. Still, as he pulled up to Briton's apartment building, it was a stark relief if only because the answer to this problem was most likely hidden away inside Briton's home. After locking the car behind them(there might now have been much crime in the city, but, hey, better safe than sorry, right?) Oz hovered over the shorter boy with each step up the rickety staircase like the mother-hen he admittedly was. There was still silence between them, no words spoken which made other noises- coughs, creaking steps, the wind rustling through leaves- all the louder.

Keys were passed over and the door was soon open, Briton stumbling in and Oz following behind, as he always did. That's when Briton broke the fragile silence, voice rasping but the words clear.

"C-could you just...g-get me some water?"

"Gotcha," Oz agreed. Briton's house wasn't nearly as familiar as Nate's, but he knew his way around reasonably well. Well enough to find the kitchen and, after only a second's recollection, remember which cabinet held the glasses. This… This he could do. He liked to help, honestly he did, whether the situation be serious like this or just someone needing a ride somewhere. He liked to… no, if he was honest with himself, he needed to be needed. If no one needed him and he never asked for anything, there went his connection with people, didn't it? If no one needed him- the easy child, the amiable friend, the confidant, the ride, the wallet, the good kid- then what was he?

The sound of a crash from Briton's room jerked him out of his reverie and, despite his normal relaxed if a bit sluggish pace, he was a sudden blur of motion, racing over to check on his friend. Should he have just taken him to the hospital? Called 911? Briton did have a habit of understating things so that people wouldn't fuss over him- had it been a mistake to trust him? He arrived just in time to see Briton's inhaler- asthma, his mind added unhelpfully, Briton apparently had asthma- go flying onto the floor and the boy slowly regaining his color and a normal breath. Oh, thank God. Thank God Oz hadn't made a mistake and that Briton was fine.

The room was messy, unlike Nate's almost clinical neatness in his room, but Oz didn't mind as he made his way into the room, deftly picking up Briton's inhaler and setting it softly on the dresser, leaving the drawer for now. There were a million questions that he could have asked- was he okay now? Why hadn't he told anyone that he had asthma? What was he thinking leaving his inhaler at home? What had happened earlier with Violet? Was he mad? But those questions were left to their own devices in his head. He didn't want to pry, especially now when Briton was only just beginning to look like his normal self again.

Then Briton began to apologize and Oz was stunned for a moment, confused. What… What was he apologizing for? He hadn't done anything apart from having an asthma attack, and no one could hold the against him. It was only when the halting apology continued that things clicked for Oz. Oh. Oh, Briton.

"Hey, no, don't apologize," in one fluid motions, gangly limbs and all, Oz settled himself in a seated position on the floor next to Briton's bed, gaze determinedly finding Briton's own. This seemed like the sort of conversation that needed them to be face to face, not Briton plastered to Oz's side or Oz looming over the smaller boy. "Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," He paused for a moment, leaning in closer and tugging one of Briton's hands away from his shirt and just holding it for a moment to really make the other boy look at him.

"This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." He gave a small but genuine smile. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."

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Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass
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"Hey, no, don't apologize," Oz urged, and Briton continued to avoid his gaze, keeping his face shrouded by his own hands while shutting his eyes tightly. He had only made the mistake once of glancing to his friend, for a mere moment after Oz had said the statement, and having noticed the other boy's placement on the ground in front of him, trying his best to catch his eyes. The look Oz was giving him made his guts wrench and twist, making him feel just that little more sick with guilt. Oz was just a nice guy. He cared about all his friends, so of course he was quick to jump to help the one who needed him. He'd have done it if one of his other friends were feeling unwell, too, and the thought alone was enough to dig deep inside of Briton's stomach and bring back bitter feelings about himself and this... this obsession. Just because he couldn't be Oz's priority all of the time, just because he was nothing special, just because he was absolutely fucking selfish. And yet being Oz's priority right now didn't matter. Getting his attention like this wasn't how he wanted it. He didn't want to be the damsel in distress, and yet... was that the only way to get anyone to pay any attention at all?

"Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," Briton's eyes widened and he couldn't help but stare helplessly into the other boy's eyes while he spoke, holding onto one of his hands in order to grab his attention and hold it there. He was so close, now, leaning towards Briton intensely. "This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." Oz continued, and he gave a small smile, one that was just sweet enough, just caring and concerned enough, to make Briton feel like he was melting. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."

Briton sighed, simply closing his eyes to avoid the look Oz was giving him while he gave a small nod, biting his lip. There was nothing he could do much more, the way Oz stayed so close, hanging right in the place where Briton's downcast gaze would have gone as well. Averting his eyes to another place was too difficult, with Oz right in front of him. He simply stayed quiet for a moment, trying his best not to think about how wrong the other boy was, how close the other boy was, or likewise, the sensation in his hand, completely enveloped in Oz's own gentle hand. He felt like his cheeks were hot, as if the situation wasn't difficult to deal with as it was. After a moment of sheer hesitation, knowing very well the reason for his hesitation in the first place, he plucked his hand away from Oz's, settling it down against his own stomach instead, which still felt awful. Finally opening his eyes again, he turned his head completely away from Oz, putting up his free hand to his face once more to shield his probably reddened cheeks from the view of his friend.

"Sorry," He finally said, though he instantly regretted the apology, seeing as it was, more or less, an apology for apologizing. He shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat uncomfortably. "It's just that... I never had to say anything about it at all. I could have stayed quiet and the point is they couldn't have done anything to make me tell them." His voice was soft, a little bit strained. He hardly even wanted to think about it. What would the night have been like if he'd just kept his trap shut like he would have on any normal damn day? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have gone with Vic and Ryan... He wouldn't have had to go to the party and he wouldn't have had an asthma attack. "If they didn't even know, then... then we wouldn't have any problems right now."

The last part of the sentence seemed to almost come out in a whine, Briton squeezing his eyes shut and letting the hand which had previously been hiding his blush clamp over his own mouth instead, as if it could hold back completely the tears he had been fighting so hard against all day. Why did opening up about something have to end in worrying about his friends' stupidity? About their ideas of "protecting" him. Most of all, why did he have to worry so much about their damn safety? They couldn't keep themselves out of danger when it came to that kind of thing. It was like the worst thing to do was suddenly the right thing in their minds. Did they really think they were helping at all? Briton turned back to Oz suddenly, slipping down from the edge of the bed where he sat and collapsing against the other boy, wrapping his arms around him and letting his face bury into Oz's shirt while the emotions suddenly spilled over, choking him and blurring his vision. Today was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even care that he was now guilty for making poor Oz's shirt wet with tears.

His body shook in quivers and sobs, unable to stop them any longer. He should have known there would be tears today, his earlier emotional outbursts only coming in little shocks of shouting and panicking. The tears were bound to come eventually when he couldn't take it anymore. Normally he was good, normally he could hold it back, leave it alone, but it seemed that no one else shared his preference of leaving it alone. Every single occurrence seemed to pull at each previous event, forcing him to pay attention to all the continuous bad luck he was having. Forced, mocking lips pressed against his, flesh scraped on pavement, an interrogation from his friend and everyone's attention all at the same time, an awful party, Nathan fighting, Violet leaving to fight, and an asthma attack. He felt humiliated and degraded and... It was as if he didn't have a say in what was happening around him at all anymore. The only control he'd ever held over his friends was by withholding information from them. And Oz... Well, surely Oz would never have raised a hand against anyone unless it was deemed absolutely necessary and he'd gotten the okay from Briton, but Oz was a talker. And even that in itself was a problem. He thought that he could fix things with words, and even if that didn't cause anyone any immediate danger, Briton couldn't be sure about anyone in earshot of Oz's words. Information was too dangerous for reckless people, and Briton wasn't so sure about taking any chances.

"Today's just been fucking shit," Briton whined, finally able to get any words out at all, though they remained slightly muffled from Briton's positioning. "You guys don't even know what Vic's been doing and now he probably thinks that I actually did tell and... and I don't know what he's gonna do." He took in a sharp breath before trying to continue, careful to leave out bigger details for his own sake. "And Violet went off on some speech about how she was a vigilante or some shit before she left the party with Vic and Ryan and god knows what trouble she's getting herself into..."

As if on cue, Briton could feel his phone vibrating, and though, in any other given situation, he probably would have ignored it, given the circumstances he was fearing the worst. He leaned away from Oz, wiping at his own face with one hand to try and clear the crying to his face while he found his own place sitting on the cramped floor, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check what it was. The screen was difficult to focus on, and the brightness of it alone was enough to hit at the headache he still maintained. He almost made a reach for his reading glasses, which, though they were often in their small case in his pocket, were inconveniently in his backpack, which he remembered had been thrown into the backseat of his car a while back, only to be forgotten about. Squinting instead and deciding to merely just strain his eyes, he finally noticed what the alert was; Charlie had texted him about Violet.

Briton found himself shaking again, locking his phone and putting it down on the ground slowly while he rubbed firmly at his eyes, biting his lip. "Damnit," he muttered, words even showing signs of his shaking. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." He inhaled sharply, putting both of his over his eyes firmly. "That's just icing on the cake, isn't it? As if today wasn't bad enough."

He clenched his jaw, dropping his hands down and simply sat there for a moment, staring down absently at a cluster of wires on the ground before standing up, using Oz's shoulders as a support to get himself up off of the ground. His chest was feeling tight and empty, not quite as bad as how it had been earlier, but he could feel his panic settling into his lungs again, and quietly weaved around Oz to take his inhaler from the top of the dresser and, after as much of an exhale as he could manage, put it to his lips and took a deep breath, before setting it back down again.

"I just feel so fucking helpless," Briton finally uttered when he had the air to speak clearly again. He made the short journey back over to where Oz was on the floor, plopping down on the ground directly next to him and pulling his own legs in close, his knees almost to his chin, while he pulled at the bandaging that was beginning to become loose after all the movement. "I'm so tired of everyone seeing me as this damn damsel in distress and thinking they have to save me. It's like... I'm below you guys or something. I'm just helpless and weak and i need to be protected. And that fucking sucks, by the way, but then someone goes and does something stupid and gets themselves hurt and they think that's going to help me in some way?"

He let his body slump over, then, his body leaning over to connect against Oz's again and staying right up against him indulgently. He supposed that as long as he could get away with it, it wasn't hurting anybody. "I just... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt for my sake. It didn't matter if it was just me, 'cause it wasn't so bad. I could handle it and I didn't care that much."

Briton bit his lip a moment, before picking his head up from where it had been pressed up against his friend, attempting to give Oz a pleading look right in the eyes. "And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton begged, his voice somewhat small and clearly a bit hesitant. "Please. I know it's like a serious thing and stuff, but I mean, do you really think if you went around telling all our friends that they're gonna keep it quiet? They'll probably start using it like some kind of excuse for me." He sighed, dropping his head back down where it had been against the other boy. "I can just imagine Nate going up to someone and saying something stupid like that they can't beat me up because I have asthma... I guess I just don't want everyone to treat me like i'm even weaker than I already am."

He rubbed the corner of his eye with one hand, feeling so drained from the day at large, and tired of everything. He was tired of these fights and these events. Hell, he was even tired of himself, he supposed. "I guess that's kind of dumb and selfish," Briton continued. "But that fact isn't really changing my mind on the matter either, so whatever."

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Character Portrait: Violet Haring Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass
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Not everything in this world can be solved with a simple talking to. If it could, then world peace could have been achieved with nothing more than a brief conversation, and bullying and crimes would vanish with a simple sigh. While Briton's issues were a little more simplistic than world peace(only barely because teenagers really are that complicated), they did fall under the same category of no simple fix. Oz could reason and coo and hug all day and all night, but, at the end of the day, it wasn't that simple, Briton wouldn't feel magically better. It hadn't worked three years ago, a year ago, a month ago, or any time that Oz had found himself in the position of comforting Briton. That didn't mean, of course, that he wouldn't try. So, when Briton slid down onto the floor, suddenly latching onto Oz and burying his face in his shirt, Oz simply wrapped his arms around him as snugly as a security blanket, rubbing his back soothingly.

He wanted to tell Briton that he wasn't the source of the group's problems, that they all had many, many issues of their own. He wanted to make him understand that what others did to him wasn't right by any stretch of the imagination, that they were at fault and should be stopped. He wanted to be able to wave a hand so that everything would magically fix itself, vanishing away Vic and Ryan or making them see reason and beg Briton for forgiveness. However, what Oz wanted was impossible or, in the case of telling Briton things he already knew, futile and unwelcome at the moment. Briton knew how Oz felt about all of this, had heard the taller boy say it over and over in a variety of situations that tended to end up like this. Besides, since when did Oz do what he wanted? Doing what he wanted caused problems for others, made them dislike him and stay away. He did what others needed, and, for right now, that involved hugging Briton closer to himself, holding him tightly and anchoring him to this world as if to say without words that for all the problems in his life right now, Oz wasn't one of them.

Briton continued to sob, breath catching between each wracking breath. To see such a good friend in such a state of despair and emotional turmoil was painful, and to know that he couldn't do anything was even more so. But he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything because then he would be burdening Briton, wouldn't he? If he started getting upset or crying himself, then Briton wouldn't feel like he could tell him things anymore and he'd keep these awful feelings bottled up, weighing him down. Like, well, like Oz did, and he couldn't let that happen to Briton.

Briton was talking now, voice muffled in Oz's shirt, but he could still hear it, and feel the words spilling from Briton's lips. It raised- it raised too many questions, too many alarms in just a few words. What did he mean that they didn't know what Vic had been doing? What was this about Violet ranting about being a vigilante? She'd gone after Vic and Ryan? Why and how? None of this news made a lot of sense right now, and hadn't this night been traumatic enough for everyone involved without all of this coming out? How out of the loop WAS Oz?

He let Briton go with little struggle when his phone vibrated, but was unable to keep his eyes away from the other boy as his face transformed, twisting with apparent worry, and the shaking began again.

"Damnit." Just that first word had Oz's stomach twisted in knots, and it only got worse as Briton finished his report. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." Oz didn't bother to hide the surprise that fell over his features. Violet was in the hospital? Why? Was it serious? Oh, of course it was serious, she was in the hospital, the hospital. What should he do about it? Should he do anything? He didn't have his license, it was so late out that it was almost early… Besides, a bunch of kids hanging around the hospital who weren't actually related to her wouldn't be able to get in, anyways, and Violet… Violet probably wouldn't want him there.

No, she definitely wouldn't want him there, regardless of why she was in the hospital. Violet and he hadn't really gotten along with each other for some time, not since the day that she left him waiting in the park for hours, only for him to later see her getting out of the car of what he could only assume was some secret older boyfriend. No, he didn't understand, but she'd refused to speak with him for ages, and they only hung around each other for group activities now. He was worried, of course he was, she was his friend, and probably still was for all of their issues, but… But he couldn't help her if she didn't even want to be in the room alone with him, and Briton needed him. Probably. Maybe he didn't need Oz specifically, but he was a convenient shoulder to cry on, wasn't he? So, he listened, taking in the choked confession of weakness, and tears, and worries while wrapping an arm around Briton's shoulders, feeling each shuddering breath.

"And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton was staring at him imploringly, and how could Oz refuse him anything after all of that? Besides it made sense. He didn't like it, but it made sense. Briton really was treated like delicate porcelain by a good majority of the group, something Oz himself could be guilty of, and to add asthma onto all of that would only aggravate the problem. It wasn't wise, but Oz knew his friends- well, thought he knew his friends- and recognized what they would probably do with that information. If one conversation about bullying had prompted Nate to challenge someone in a booze-fueled party, had raised threats at the diner, had prompted Violet into becoming some sort of vigilante, he could only imagine that it would become ten times worse with the knowledge that Briton was asthmatic.

"O-O," the word was caught in Oz's throat, a stammer created by pent up emotion slurring his speech. He knew how he wanted to respond, but after everything that had just been dealt to him emotionally and mentally, it was hard to speak, hard to get his meaning across. He was choking on it now, vocal chords and mouth refusing to cooperate before it all tumbled out into a quick, "Iwontellem."

He took a deep breath, repeating it now with slower and more precise words. "I won't tell anyone." Oz would know, though, another secret locked away in his mind, and he could use that information in case something happened. There was quiet then, for a moment, as Oz quelled his raging emotions, not meeting Briton's eyes for the longest time because if he did- well, then he was going to need comforting himself, and he wasn't putting that job on Briton or anyone for that matter.

The silence passed, and with it Oz's bout of speechlessness. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" He searched for the word, "okay." When Briton wasn't just coming away from an asthma attack, and when Oz was certain he himself wouldn't cause a scene. "Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Because, right now, if Briton just looked at him the right way after the day that both of them had had, he'd probably agree to do just about anything.

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Character Portrait: Briton Hadings Character Portrait: Oscar Glass
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"O-O," was the first Briton heard coming from Oz's mouth. He almost panicked, a bit worried for a split moment about Oz's response and darting his green eyes over to watch his handsome friend's expression. Oz seemed to have difficulty with his own standpoint on the situation, and Briton couldn't blame him. After all, Briton was asking him to withhold some pretty big information. Briton had heard time and time again about what a big deal it was - that having an attack and no one knowing what to do for him was a bad idea - but still he found himself ignoring the concept due to selfishness. When Oz's words came out again, they tumbled all at once like they were one word. "Iwontellem."

"I won't tell anyone." He rephrased after a deep breath, and Briton found himself sighing in relief, shutting his eyes and resting his head back down against Oz's shoulder. That was it. He could relax, couldn't he? Surely, that was one less thing he had to worry about tonight. Oz was typically good about a secret. If only it had been the only problem at hand. "Thanks," Briton managed to utter, though it came out in such a small voice. He felt shaky and sick, but at the very least some of the problems were solved. He could breath, and he didn't have to worry about everyone knowing what happened. He tried to simply convince himself that his other problems just weren't worth worrying over right now. The only things he could fix were already fixed.

Briton picked up one of his hands, rubbing at his eyes and trying to eliminate the evidence that he'd been crying, though it seemed all he managed to do was make the skin around his eyes redder. How embarrassing. He hated crying in front of anyone, and he hated being so clingy and weak and helpless in front of Oz. Every thought which suggested that it was no big deal, that it was okay, was quickly expunged by the same thought of embarrassment. Sure, it wasn't as if Oz was going to be shouting all over town what a big cry baby he was, or how weak and vulnerable he was, but... it didn't change the fact that Oz knew. Oz had seen all of these things and the very idea of Oz knowing was enough to make Briton feel sick to his stomach. He knew it was hopeless, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted Oz to like him. And not in the way that Oz liked all his friends, and not in the way that Oz like anyone who seemed a relatively decent person. Who would ever like someone as weak and broken as I am? He thought, and almost felt as if he were near another break down. This time around however, he had just enough mental stability to suppress it.

It wasn't more than a moment, really, before Oz's words saved Briton from more of his winding thoughts, bringing him out of his worry and back into the current situation. He opened his eyes and tried just to think about how nice it was to have Oz here to comfort him, how alone they were, and how close they were. It hurt so badly, but it was still nice. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" Oz seemed to search for the right word for a small moment, "okay."

Briton found himself clutching small clumps of Oz's shirt in his hands tightly while he thought about it. He wasn't quite up to going anywhere still, and asking Oz to drive again seemed like pushing the envelope a bit much, anyway. Briton's head was swimming just a bit too much for him to get behind the wheel of anything. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was a bad idea. Violet... God, what had even been going through her damn head? Taking on a couple of neanderthals by herself and expecting to walk away unscathed? He wanted to slap her for so many things... For putting herself in danger, for thinking she needed to save him. Why would anyone think their own safety was worth putting on the line just for him? It wasn't just in this life, either, he reminded himself. The amount of pointless effort they put into helping him out, despite his clear position in their friend group. He wasn't important. Briton was just the one that followed them around, that they'd put up with because who else was going to? They didn't owe him anything, and they certainly didn't need to go trying to save him.

"Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Oz reiterated, saving Briton once again from his thoughts. Any longer, and who knows where it would have gotten him. Briton gave just a little nod at first, before noting what a small gesture it was, and trying to give a more defined one, looking right at his friend.

"I guess it's a better idea that we wait till tomorrow," Briton agreed, giving out a little sigh while he fidgeted and made an effort to move himself, no longer leaning right up against the other boy. "I'd probably end up hitting her myself for the stunt she pulled." He looked away, shrugging Oz's supportive arm off of his shoulders for the moment. As much as he wanted it there, the risk of acting a bit more clingy than normal was beginning to seem like a bit more that he was willing to take.

"A movie sounds good, actually," he continued, taking a deep breath in through his nose before hefting himself upward, the action seeming to take a little out of him. "We can set it up in my brother's room since my room is a little," Briton gave a pause, eyeing a small pile of empty redbull cans underneath his desk, "uncomfortable." He turned his gaze forward again, losing a little more outward expression as seconds ticked onward. The evidence of crying was still on his face, but had it not been for that, the very concept of his emotional breakdown would have seemed odd. Accounting for the redness of his face and eyes, however, it was quite clear he was simply suppressing the feeling. He just wasn't willing to let any emotions get past the wall, at least for the given moment. He just wanted to shut it all off. If only he could shut off his thoughts completely.

Picking up his laptop quietly, and near feebly, he had to hold the object hugged against his chest, worried that leaving it in his hand would be too much for his exhausted limbs. The more he thought about it, he really was tired. He just wanted to finally lay down, not move for a while, not worry for a while, get what little strength he had in the first place back. Briton moved to the end of his bed, eyes scanning the mess of wires and cables there for the HDMI cable that sat there. Unlike the TV Briton had worked extra shifts to buy, his brothers TV was much simpler, and required the direct link, rather than simply being synced up to the computer automatically. Snatching it from the ground, he quickly tucked it under his arm and turned on his heels, heading for the door and opening up before stopping dead in his tracks, feeling a tinge in his gut at the silence he was giving his friend.

"Um, Oz?" He interjected into the silence, looking over his shoulder at his friend, the slightest hint of a softer expression in his raw eyes. "Thanks... for, um... taking me home and helping me out and," he bit his lip, turning forward again and keeping his gaze away from the other boy. "Y'know, thanks for staying over. I'll deny it if you say anything ever, and I do mean I'll deny it if you even said something in two minutes, but... I don't really like to be alone after I have attacks like that." Briton looked down a moment, contemplating whether it really was more comforting to be with someone. Decidedly, yes, it was considerably less nerve-wracking to have someone around who cared. However, perhaps it was the fact that the person with him was Oz that gave him a different kind of hurt. Perhaps it simply balanced out, he decided as he finally pushed himself back into motion, leaving the room swiftly for the next door down from his.

He budged the door open with his shoulder and slipped inside, taking a seat on the carpeted floor in front of the flat screen that sat almost up against the wall, not propped up on any kind of table or desk, and not that there was even one in the room at all. The queen sized bed behind him which was wedged between the walls of the narrow room didn't even sit on a box-spring, leaving everything just about at the same low level anyway. The remainder of his brother's things, mostly clothes for the weekends and holidays when he came home, were all tossed in the small closet. Briton made quick work of plugging up his computer, turning it and the television on, beginning to pull up his movie files for the second time today when he took note of Oz coming into the room as well. He flashed a weak smile, but quickly looked back to the television screen, now showing off his computer desk top, and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"So," Briton spoke up, hefting his laptop awkwardly while he crawled over to the mattress and settled down, slumping against the multiple pillows that were leaned up against the far wall at the head of the bed. He plopped the laptop down on his lap, and sent his look back over to Oz. "What kind of movie do you wanna watch? I've got a lot of different ones, so... your choice, okay?" He rubbed his eyes absentmindedly, a little bit of an ache settling into them. He couldn't say he was surprised, of course, what with the exhaustion. It was getting late, after all, and his eyes were a bit tired. Sitting up suddenly, Briton leaned over and placed the open laptop in Oz's lap, before standing promptly. "I'll be right back, you can go ahead and pick one," He continued in explanation, before slipping out of the room and back to his own.

His glasses... not that it was a common occasion when he slipped them on, but when it he was tired like this and going to be focusing on a bright screen... Well, he supposed it couldn't be helped. Surely he didn't wear them often, but it wasn't as if his friends didn't see them at all. At least he didn't have to worry about that, he assured himself while he picked through the strewn contents from the drawer he'd pulled out of his dresser just a bit earlier, crouching on the ground to try and find them. Once located, he reluctantly slipped the dorky, slim framed pair onto the bridge of his nose, aware that while their main purpose was to make focusing easier, their other purpose was probably just to make him look as geeky as humanly possible. Straightening up with a sigh, he retreaded back to his brother's room, striding in while he pushed the glasses a little further up on his nose with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that, my eyes are just kind of tired," Briton explained, lowering himself down to the mattress and crawling to the space next to Oz, giving up once again on his struggles to put some distance between them. He leaned his shoulder into Oz's side as casually as possible, gazing at the lit up screen expectantly, if not somewhat tiredly. He had half a mind to expect himself to fall asleep partway through whatever movie they watched, but he supposed that was alright. "Find something good?"