kvating

[kvating]

he’s trudging home after a long and hellish mandatory family dinner. despite being replete with its usual heavy silences aside from forks shrieking across porcelain, rome didn’t feel relieved after leaving the keating household. for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why his brother was so adamant about gathering a family who was anything but that together. however, it was more normal than whatever he would’ve had to deal if he hadn’t gone. maybe that’s what roman needed — predictable. after the last three weeks, the idea of a mundane summer wasn’t sounding terrible at all. he was thankful that near-death experiences were out of the picture. turning the corner and nearing the driveway to the griffin house, thalia enters his line of sight. coming to a halt, a soft groan emits from him, his head tilting back. the last thing he wanted to do is engage in small talk with his ex-girlfriend. “hey,” he greets, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “here for adam?” / @withfires​

[kvating]

with nearly everything feeling up in the air, even his friendship with adam, he's looking for solid ground beneath his feet. even more so than he usually is. hoping to avoid the awkwardness, he’s been dodging adam ever since the bonfire. it isn’t as difficult as he thought it’d be, but it feels wrong. reemerging from the cabin of the orion, he hands a soda can off to don in silence. being alone with don is odd; there’s no better way to put it. roman can count on one hand the number of times they’ve been alone since they’ve met. they are perfectly okay friends, it's just that he's never sure how much of himself he's allowed to be around don. it makes him slightly uncomfortable, but he appreciates him — especially lately. rome takes a seat on the bench, outstretching his legs the best he can within the confines of the small space. cracking the tab on his own drink, he takes a sip before tilting the can towards don’s face. “how’s that jaw doing, hot shot?” / @kingscrcwn​

[kvating]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @griffinfm​

roman shoves one final cardboard box of in the corner of his new room. the actuality of the house he found refuge in becoming his home is still too jarring to accept. nevertheless, he’s grateful for anything or anyone that gets him farther away from the keating household. as he rolls out the kink in his neck, his mind wanders to the events of the last handful of days. even though adam dragging him and the rest of their group on excursions around the outer banks was slightly tiresome, it was at least proving to be entertaining. he’d never admit to it, but rome was genuinely curious if they’d end up with a little more money than they thought they’d ever come across in their life, or if it was long gone by now. he didn’t even know what he’d do with the money in the first place. clearing the thoughts with a shake of his head, rome strolls into the kitchen. opening and peering into the fridge, he takes a swig of orange juice straight from the bottle. “so what’s for lunch, my lovely housewife?”

[kvating]

* things said meme

things you said over the phone

things you said with the tv on mute 

things you said when you were proud

things you said under your breath

things you said with sorrow between your fists

things you said when you were lost

things you said when our world began to crumble

things you said with too many days between us

things you didn’t say at all

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

things you said you’ll never forget

things you said with clammy hands 

things you said when fear cut deep

things you said while a fever stole your mind

things you said with rage between your teeth

things you were afraid to say

things you said when no one else was around

things you said when the sun was shining

things you said with blooming bruises and stinging cuts

things you said when we were safe

things you said without thinking

things you said that kept me grounded

things you said you loved about me

things you said you hated about me

things you said when you lied

things you said with scraped knees 

things you said with tears in your eyes

things you said while holding my hand 

things you said in the car

things you said under the stars

things you said at my grave

things you said at the kitchen table

things you said on the porch at 3 am

things you said in a gas station parking lot 

things you said in a hotel room

things you said in the waiting room

things you said while you stroked my hair

things you said that made me feel loved

things you said when i was crying

things you said while i cried in your arms 

things you said when you thought i was asleep

things you said in your sleep

things you said when you kissed me goodnight

things you said after a nightmare

things you said before death snatched you

things you said that i wish you hadn’t

things you said when it ended

things you said when you met my friends

things you said when we first met

things you said when they took me away

[kvating]

HADESTOWN THEMED HEADCANONS.

road to hell —— is your muse more passive or active when they interact with others? do they prefer to observe or interact?

any way the wind blows —— does your muse travel a lot?

come home with me —— does your muse believe in love at first sight? if so, would they ever act on those feelings?

wedding song —— what are some things that your muse does to show off?

epic I —— is your muse very musically oriented?

livin’ it up on top —— does your muse value money or happiness more?

all i’ve ever known —— do relationships change your muse? could they, if your muse loved their partner enough?

way down hadestown —— does your muse ever gossip? how easily do they believe rumors they hear?

chant —— how easily distracted is your muse? when they’re working on something they’re passionate about, is it hard to pull them away?

hey, little songbird —— would your muse easily fall for someone’s kind facade?

when the chips are down —— would your muse take an offer that would benefit them even if it would hurt someone they loved?

gone, i’m gone —— does your muse run from their problems or try to confront them?

wait for me —— how far would your muse go to save someone they loved?

why we build the wall —— if your muse was in a position of power, how would they rule? do they believe fear yields respect, or that kindness does?

our lady of the underground —— would your muse disregard the law, provided that doing so could help others?

way down hadestown (reprise) —— has your muse ever made a choice that they realized afterwords was terrible? if so, what was it?

flowers —— does your muse tend to have nightmares, good dreams, or strange dreams?

nothing changes —— does your muse believe they can change the world, or would they rather wait for someone else to do that?

if it’s true —— how badly does your muse react to the news that a loved one has left them?

how long? —— is your muse moved by others’ sorrow and suffering, or do they believe that everyone must suffer at least a little?

chant (reprise) —— is your muse a leader or a follower? do they go on well without instruction or guidance?

epic III —— does your muse keep their emotions carefully guarded, or wear them on their sleeve?

promises —— how good is your muse at keeping their word?

word to the wise —— when your muse is in a tough spot, do they seek out advice?

his kiss, the riot —— does your muse believe that helping others makes them entitled to those people’s respect?

wait for me (reprise) —— does your muse struggle more with physical or mental burdens?

doubt comes in —— how often does your muse doubt themself?

road to hell (reprise) —— does your muse still cry when watching a sad movie they’ve seen before?

we raise our cups —— is your muse the type to persevere no matter what, or do they give up easily?

[kvating]

send me a crystal and i'll tell...

abalone: what kind of situations compromise my muse emotionally

aegerine: my muse's opinion of the supernatural

agate: how my muse calms down

blue lace agate: my muse's favorite form of communication (verbal, letters, texting, etc.)

fire agate: if my muse is brave or cowardly

moss agate: if my muse has a high or low opinion of themself

amazonite: what kind of situations call for my muse to be dishonest

amethyst: what my muse would most like to be able to shape-shift into

ammolite: how lucky or unlucky my use is

angel aura quartz: my muse's opinion of LGBT+ issues

apache tears: a sadness headcanon

apatite: a headcanon about my muse's intuition

apophyllite: my muse's religious/spiritual beliefs

aquamarine: where my muse feels most calm/relaxed

biotite: the biggest problems my muse is currently dealing with

bloodstone: how my muse sees themself as part of the world at large

calcite: my muse's social tendencies (introverted vs extroverted, parties vs one-on-one conversations, etc.)

carnelian: an art-related headcanon

celestite: how my muse deals with anxiety

chalcedony: the saddest my muse has ever been

chalcopyrite: how my muse deals with ending relationships

charoite: who my muse looks up to

chrysocolla: a money-making headcanon

copper: how I think my muse will end up when they're older

coral: how my muse views the natural world

diamond: a sex headcanon

dolomite: a sleep headcanon

emerald: how my muse tells someone they love them without words

fluorite: what my muse's room looks like

fossil: what my muse's dream job is

galena: what it's like to be in a relationship with my muse

garnet: what my muse's perfect partner would be

gold: my muse's financial situation

hematite: how squeamish my muse is

hiddenite: how much of an "inner child" my muse has

iolite: my muse's drinking habits

jade: if my muse would ever cheat on a partner

jasper: what my muse would be like as a parent

kyanite: an anger headcanon

lapis lazuli: where 'home' is to my muse

lodestone: what kind of people gravitate towards my muse

malachite: what my muse as a child thought they would be when they grew up

mica: what my muse views as their worst personality trait

moonstone: my muse's opinions on outer space

mother of pearl: if my muse tends to lift people up or bring them down

nebula stone: how good my muse's memory is

obsidian: which of the seven deadly sins my muse would be

opal: how creative my muse is

pearl: a mental health headcanon

petalite: what my muse would do if they found a wallet on the street

pyrite: a physical health headcanon

quartz: how my muse thinks other people see them

rhodonite: if my muse prefers elegance or convenience

rubellite: if my muse has any 'triggers' that inspire painful memories

ruby: a happiness headcanon

sapphire: if everyone my muse knew was hanging off a cliff and they could only choose three to save, the rest certainly dying, who they would choose

serpentine: how my muse would seduce another [alt: how my muse makes their money]

silver: if my muse prefers masculinity or femininity

tsavorite: if my muse believes in destiny or fate

ulexite: how empathetic/sympathetic/compassionate my muse is

unakite: what my muse's ideal pet would be

verdite: my muse's ethnicity/family history

zebra stone: what gets my muse excited

zoisite: does my muse believe everything's going to work out for them in the end or not?

[kvating]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀.​

the way he looks at her isn’t lost to her. some things never change. alina smiles, shaking her head. “oh, like you wouldn’t believe. you’d fit right in, rome,” ali teases, a smug expression on her face. she thinks about how the relationship between the two of them is predictable in a number of ways but never boring; how they always manage to entertain each other. “but how very thoughtful of you.” she raises her brows at him as he steps closer. a breathy chuckle escapes past her lips. it’s amusing the way they dance around the subject, how they poke and prod despite the obvious direction of their conversation. “be careful, roman, say anything more and i might get jealous,” she speaks in a low voice, just loud enough for him to hear. “but damn right.” alina nods decisively. “you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone half as fun as me around here. are you ever going to expand your horizons?“ all part of the banter, of course, because she doesn’t really care much about whether or not rome will ever find his way out of the outer banks. their relationship, if it could be called that, had its limits.

he’s forgotten exactly how easy it is with alina. often more so than with the countless tourists that swoop in and retreat by the end of the summer. sometimes even they expect more from him; a level of vulnerability he isn’t comfortable sharing, an unobtainable spot in his life that hasn’t been filled in a long time and probably won’t be for even longer. alina enters stage left, exits stage right, only stays as long as they both want the other to. the anticipation and build-up, filling the silence with things they’ll disregard until the next year — it’s always the same. even though they hardly know each other after all these years, their personalities almost mirror each other. roman runs his tongue over his lips, his teeth latching onto his bottom lip as he keeps his gaze locked on her. “there was this one girl. reminded me of you,” he teases, even while knowing jealousy won’t play a role. rome avoids her inquiry, despite knowing his answer would go in one ear and out the other. the words leave his mouth without caring if it happens or not, “fly my out next time?” he occupies himself with pressing his lips to the corner of hers.

[kvating]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌.

it’s easy for adam to come up with a laundry list of reasons why he wants roman to move in with him; he’s been thinking about how much it sucks to live alone for the past month. though it’s just been adam and his dad for as long as he can remember, their home always felt busy, full of life. now, everything feels still; each silence drags on, filled by the absence of his father. there is no one who understands what adam is going through quite like rome, who grew up by adam’s side, and is going through the same adjustment period of not having thomas around. it’ll be easier for them to get through together. it’s a reoccurring theme in adam’s life; every time he feels like he can’t find his footing, rome’s there for him. they can figure out anything together. instinctively, adam leans into rome’s touch, but he quickly pulls away when he hears what he says. “hold on, i just told you i cook and you’re going to leave me with all the cleaning too? am i your roommate or your housewife?” he shakes his head, “if i knew this would end with me needing lia to put together a feminist reading list on how to liberate myself i would’ve never brought it up.” in actuality, adam doesn’t care how many chores he has to do, the comfort rome will provide just by being around is more than enough. the peace of mind adam will get from knowing roman is not under the same roof as his father is an added benefit; one they don’t need to talk about. or at least adam doesn’t think they need to talk; he hopes rome knows that he’s doing it as much to help him as he is to help himself. 

the freedom of stepping inside of the griffin household is something roman’s been missing, but he knows if he opens the door, the air will feel too cold and stale. it won’t feel anything like when he was younger and it was the only roof he felt safe under. he’s been avoiding going altogether. part of him wonders if he’s making the right decision by accepting adam’s offer. thomas’ disappearance has undoubtedly caused a shift in both of them; one of them optimistic enough to believe he isn’t gone forever. maybe this is the way of all dads, biological or not — they eventually disappear in their own way. roman’s done his best his entire life to shield adam from the cruelty the world has to offer and he can’t help but feel as though he’s failed at the one thing he’s been good for this long. so roman decides to let him have hope for a little while longer. he doesn’t know how much longer he can play along. “you’re my housewife,” he playfully affirms, his eyebrows waggling. “she’ll use too many big college words i won’t understand so there’s no way in hell i’m gonna pay attention. you’re better off forcing me to pay like, a sixteenth of the rent.” adam could force him to mop the floors and rome would still say agree to moving in. he feels slightly selfish like this is just another handout for having been dealt a difficult hand. it’s an easy way out, though, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that adam is doing is his best to not make it seem like that’s what it is. a way out of what seemed unescapable until moments ago. he’s grateful for the way they don’t speak on the obvious. “wait, instead of a sixteenth of the rent i’ll cook you breakfast. cereal or pop-tart á la mode.”

[kvating]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌.​

though adam is expecting roman’s response, he isn’t moved by it. over the years, the two had spoken a lot about rome’s home life, and each time roman trusts him with another story about the horrible things his dad does, it gets more difficult for adam to stop himself from dragging him away and never allowing him to go back. it’s a line adam has struggled to figure out how to cross, but he finally sees an opening. he’s more than willing to turn it into asking a favor from roman, because that’s part of it. “no?” he doesn’t give rome long enough to double down on his excuse before speaking again. “so i’m gonna have to convince you to move in with me?” the breath he lets out is exaggeratedly labored. “well, you know how much i hate not having someone to talk to at every hour of the day. i’m used to cooking for two, so now i always have too many leftovers and my all my food is going bad. i fucking hate cleaning the whole house on my own. we’ve both missed out on the whole college roommate, living with other people our age, so we have to start making up for lost time. you wouldn’t have to pay bills. feel free to stop me whenever you want.” adam is dancing around the point; it’s too weird for him to live at home alone and he needs someone to take up the space his dad used to occupy.

it was an expectation. a reality, he supposes, that eventually he would have to move out of his childhood home for good. he doesn’t quite understand how he’s lasted this long. even though nights spent on the orion offer him solace, a boat isn’t a suitable place to live either. rome’s jaw clenches at the indication that he’s lying and he wants to refute, but it is that bad all of the time and adam doesn’t give him the chance to say otherwise again. he finds comfort in that; how with adam, roman doesn’t have to box up the ghastly details and shove them underneath his bed. a lump grows in his throat at the mention of how adam was used to ‘cooking for two’ and his mind is already made up long before the spiel ends. he does an easy job as remaining stoic, despite trying to wrack his brain around how odd waking up inside the griffin household without being greeted by mr. griffin is going to be. it’s not unbeknownst to him that half the reason he’ll be there is to fill the silence and it feels like awful big shoes to fill. though as the offer stands, he’d be passing up on something that could put an end to what he’s been enduring since seven. “you’re tellin’ me there was more shit on the list?” rome’s curious how long it’s taken for him to come up with all these excuses that sound like practical reasons. it doesn’t matter. he’s been meaning to ask for this his entire life. roman slings his arm around adam’s shoulders. “fine, deal. we’ll talk about the cleaning and how i’m not doing any of that bullshit later.”

[kvating]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀.

it’s funny. alina’s always been a little surprised she and rome never dated in high school. though, if she thought about it, history between them would mean their current relationship would be nonexistent, and she prefers what they have now over any what-ifs she might dwell on for only a second. she takes his hand as she steps carefully onto the boat, touching her chin to her shoulder as she smiles. “aw, you shouldn’t have.” it had been a stupid joke, something to laugh about for the next time they met, they had said. she’s surprised he remembered, surprised that he had even gone to acquire one. though rome has always been that type. because she knows he doesn’t mean anything by it — it’s refreshing. “i don’t remember you being quite this dramatic,” she scoffs, smiling still as she looks over at roman. “you know i would’ve flown you out if you had just asked.” alina leans against the edge of the boat, finishing off her cone of ice cream. “besides, i’m sure the summer tourists provided some fun.”

filing away an insignificant joke that made them laugh two years ago was light work; he remembers more than most give him credit for. if his head was full of memories that weren’t his own, there’d be no room for the ones that were. roman lets his head shake, the smirk plastered on his face permanent. he likes that this is all he knows about alina — that she’s rich enough to fly people out to paris or wherever on a whim. he thinks for a moment that he should’ve asked but the thought leaves as quickly as it came. what he also likes the way they only see each other at most three times when she’s home; he’d hate to ruin something so simple, so straightforward. “i didn’t want you to miss out on all the europeans. hear they’re sex maniac’s over there,” he quips, his eyes darting to her lips as she finishes her ice cream cone. rome holds onto the railing of the boat with one hand and leans into her, closing the minimal space between them. “very true,” he confirms huskily, head tilting to the side as last years tourists in her exact same position run through his mind for a split second. “no one’s as fun as you, though.”

[kvating]

JORDAN BAKER All American (Season One, Episode Eight)

[kvating]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀.​

for @kvating​

francine. it was a name fit for a grandma, or a bohemian boutique shop–not a category two hurricane. it sounded much more delicate in concept, but waking up to part of a fence nearly lodged into her bedroom window didn’t evoke a particularly fragile feeling. little pieces of the outer banks had been blown haphazardly around the petrov-garcia estate, reminding thalia of just how much unrecyclable plastic was just floating around their coastal paradise. the place could be flooded with rich people and second-homers for the summer, but it still managed to look like a living landfill. that was a pet peeve of hers–just one out of many.

another annoying part of hurricanes–besides the climate change behind them–was the disappearance of cell service. as much as she wanted to pretend like she could go off the grid instantly, out of her true appreciation of the earth — thalia couldn’t go anywhere without her phone. she needed to be connected to her boys, to be able to check up on them every five minutes. but thanks to stevie, she had to make her rounds in person today. which meant getting behind the wheel of one of alexie’s vehicles that just screamed eat me, i’m rich!

so thalia, wrapped in a soft, oversized hoodie, sat in her car, perpetually glancing at the ziplock bag full of blueberry muffins strapped into the passenger’s seat. she pulled up to rome’s place around eleven am–it was always a little strange showing up there, alone, like she used to in high school. but rome was something of a hurricane himself–thalia knew, maybe better than anyone, that there was always something sensitive stirring inside of him, just waiting to blow up. she found herself keeping a close eye on him. and that’s why she sucked it up and hopped out onto the curb, a muffin in one hand and her useless phone in the other. lia peered down at her sandals as she waited for him to answer the door, quickly growing impatient. “ rome ! i come bearing baked goods. open the door, asshole. ” she hoped to god that nobody else was home.

it’s not out of laziness or even his dislike for the outer banks that he doesn’t aid in the post-francine cleanup; it’s out of pure spite. high and mighty, before francine was even finished wreaking havoc, atticus keating demanded his family partake in their civic duties; under no circumstance were they allowed to bail. cyrus, ever the suck-up, saluted. he raised his hand to his forehead with a quick movement that made their father nod his head in respect. roman’s been holed up in his childhood home for an entire week and he’ll be damned if he spent another minute with his father five feet away from him.

evading his so-called ‘mandatory’ assistance outside of two whales was hardly a feat. it took one look at mayor winthrop and the words came easily: “my father wants me to help out around the station. i figured he would’ve talked to you already.” though he wasn’t going to be caught dead doing that either, it’s a stellar excuse and earns him pat on the back from the older man. he knows their paths will never cross. to keep some good conscience, he couldn’t say no to mrs. babcock — not when she startled him by clutching his forearm after the town meeting and more or less begged him to help clean up her yard later in the week. his promising answer to her came with a dazzling grin and his hand covering hers, “i’ll be there this weekend.”

he’s shoving a spoon full of cinnamon toast crunch into his mouth when the interruption causes him to groan in detest. it registers as one of his sister’s coming to drag him by the ear until lia’s voice echoes through the door. he debates with himself on whether or not he should even get up to answer, just let her believe he’s sleeping or out with the rest of them. he knows she knows better ( always does ) and the idea of eating something other than stale cereal appeals to him. with the swing of his front door, he greets her, “is that any way to greet your favorite asshole, lia?” now that she’s returned from california, it hits him that he’s missed her presence. when he allows himself to think about it long enough, it was never the act of thinking he didn’t miss her. he just didn’t think he had the right to anymore.

being back in town, on the keating family’s porch of all places, made thalia a little dizzy. she felt like she was getting whiplash, remembering all of the times she had climbed through the window on the side of the house rather than entering through the front door. lia didn’t particularly enjoy the feeling of those memories reentering her brain after they had been locked away so neatly for months, conveniently forgotten by two and a half thousand miles. but she couldn’t say she hated it, either–she was fond of that much simpler time. when the thought of college hadn’t even crossed their minds yet, for all they knew was each other. that was much easier to get lost in. and part of her had understood that back then–understood that she had to really know herself before she could dissolve into another human being. sometimes, thinking of that made her feel less guilty for leaving the outer banks behind in the dust.

“okay, you got me there.” she admitted, waving the muffin in the air. lia held it out in front of her, as a peace offering. “so, how ya been?” she asked casually. in an attempt to try not to look at him for too long, she slipped behind him and inside of the house, an eerily familiar skeleton from her past. suddenly, she was eager to go back to keeping her gaze on roman. “francine do a number on you?” maybe it was selfish, but lia didn’t really care about his answer to the question. these post-hurricane check-ins were merely an excuse for her to gauge how the gang was doing–and how they had been doing these past eight or so months.

thalia’s eyes narrowed at the sight of rome’s half-eaten bowl of cereal, glad to have brought him something with more sustenance. that wasn’t to say she wasn’t a fan of cinnamon toast crunch. but he knew that already. “did you miss me?” she pried, turning back on her heel to face him. it was her final question, a test that was nearly impossible to pass. lia didn’t really know what she was doing here, trying to breathe life into something that had laid dead for so long. she didn’t even know what the answer was to that question. all she knew was that she had gotten in her car, and somehow ended up on roman’s front porch, without even thinking about it.

succeeding the ending of them, it always felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room whenever they were alone. albeit not very often with her across the country majority of the year, roman felt as though he was suffocating. now, there seemed to be the addition of thoughts inside his mind he had to grapple with. there was semi-permanency to thalia’s east coast return and in return, it made roman nauseous. keeping the group dynamic between the four of them virtually the same had been the one requirement to their break up. they were almost scarily good at pretending nothing at all happened between them. after so many years, he was still trying to decide whether that was a good or bad thing.

with quick reflexes, the baked good is almost ripped out of her hands and he impolitely shoves it into his mouth. “fantastic,” he manages out with a mouth full of food, “you know. a job here, a job there. kickin’ ass and takin’ names.” it sounds so vague and uninteresting when he says it out loud to anyone, but to thalia it feels more so. hazy, repetitive, dull; waking up and doing the same thing he did the previous day and never questioning it. “the only thing stevie is guilty of doing to me is putting me under the same roof as the big man in charge,” he says dryly with a curt shake of his head. “what about you? everyone’s body parts intact over at the petrov-garcia household?”

in reality, her final question was perhaps the easiest question of the three; a simple ‘yes. you know i did’ would suffice. how he’d been and if stevie did a number on him required him to put thought into how the last handful of days, even months, have treated him. yet somehow there was more vulnerability within the simplicity. that particular inquiry brings life to ghosts he thought were laid to rest. the memories seem to dance around them, taunting him for thinking he could live without the past hanging over him. he wants to turn it around, question if she misses him. he would if he had the nerve or if he knew he would be unbothered by the possibility of her saying she hadn’t missed him, not really anyway. “i missed your blueberry muffins,” rome settles for, taking another bite.

[kvating]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌.​

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @kvating​

the sun sets on another long day of hurricane cleanup in the outer banks. the day was cut slightly short by adam and roman, choosing to sneak away from their cleaning duties early to split a six pack on the water. adam’s feet dangle off the edge of the orion (though the boat would always be eggs-ta-sea in adam’s heart) as the boat idles. though a comfortable silence had settled between the two, adam chooses to break it after finishing his second beer. “when are you gonna move out?” it seems like the question comes out of nowhere. it’s not something they regularly discuss; neither of them has the money to move out. but money no longer felt like a burden, with adam’s dad missing. everyone at the wreck felt bad enough for adam that they suggested that he get his dad’s wage in addition to his own in order to stay afloat, while not making him take over all of his dad’s responsibilities yet to give him time to adjust. it’s sweet, but unnecessary; his dad would be back soon enough, he doesn’t need to adjust. but now he has a convenient excuse to get roman out of his house. 

with over half the town out cleaning up the debris left in the wake of the hurricane, sneaking away from their duties was easy enough. it’d always been this easy; either one suggesting they book it and the other walking right beside, no questions asked. lately, it’s been more of roman going along with whatever adam wants or needs. he doesn’t quite know how to shake it out of his best friend that his father isn’t just lost on some island, waiting to be rescued. the kind of hope that adam carries with him has always been unknown to roman, but he’d go down swinging if it meant it stayed that way for his friend. he just isn’t sure how much longer he can keep it up. roman fixates on the sun disappearing on the horizon, seemingly sinking into the vast blue. the suddenness and the weight of adam’s inquiry causes him to deepen his breath. it’s not as though the idea of moving out has never crossed his mind, but it’s something that seems impossible to act on. he only makes enough money to get him through a week at a time and pigs would have to learn how to fly before any of his family members aided him in the slightest. he’s thought about calling athena but instead, always comes to the conclusion that she’s done enough for him the majority of his life already. “dunno. it’s not that bad,” he shrugs while cracking open his third beer and is quick to throw in, “not all the time.” 

[kvating]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀.​

actively avoiding cleanup duty at the beach is sort of part of her whole post-hurricane ritual. max had caught her in a moment of weakness when he’d woken her with breakfast that first day, but today, she had the foresight to get out of the house before he could even think to convince her to partake in some good old community service. she doesn’t even live there anymore, not really at least, though that might change considering her post-graduate plans were almost nonexistent. truthfully, she should be checking on the boutique, but the thought of having to sort through all the mess stevie’s made depresses her. it’s not exactly the energy she wants right now.

so instead, alina’s at the harbor. she’s got a cone of strawberry ice cream in her hand, and she’s ambling through almost leisurely. further down, she recognizes roman on his boat. she can never remember the name of it despite the number of times she’s seen it. “hey hot stuff!” she yells, moving closer. at the sight of the red carpet, she laughs out loud. “rome,” she draws his name out, “did you get this for me?”

he’s triple checking that the rope securing his boat to the docks is tight enough, when the sound of alina’s familiar voice rings through his ears. he laughs at her greeting and it’s the kind of laugh that makes his cheeks hurt. it’s the first time he’s laughed all week and he’s thankful for that. there was an easiness that existed between them, one he failed to find within his immediate friend group. it’d been just under two years since they last saw each other, yet it didn’t feel that way. they always seemed to pick up right where they left off and roman enjoyed the simplicity of that. there wasn’t any waiting by the phone for the other to call or any awkward reunion dates where they didn’t know what to say. “ali,” he mimics her in drawing her name out. “of course it’s for you, good lookin’.” a playful smirk overtakes his features as he reaches a hand out to welcome her aboard. “as a welcome home,” he feigns dejectedness with a pout, “since you abandoned me last year.”

[kvating]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @alinafm​

it doesn’t take long for the outer banks to return to normalcy, almost as if stevie never vacationed on their small island. thankful for her departure, roman was finally able to repack the few things he’d shoved into an old backpack and book it out of his parents’ house. samuel had been kind enough to let him store the orion in one of the sheds typically used for all of the jetski’s. the offer came at a small price — helping him at the rental shop this tourist season. he knew eventually the man would cave and end up adding him to payroll, which would be a win-win situation in his books.

hauling a boat back to the harbor proves to be difficult but eventually the orion sits in her rightful spot. before news broke that the beginning of their summer would be interrupted, he’d gone through the trouble of acquiring (he distracted the sales clerk long enough to slip out of the store without paying for it) a red carpet runner from the party city just outside of town. once he finishes placing his belongings back in place, he rolls out the fabric on the deck of the boat in preparation.

[kvating]

[kvating]

dc rewatch ♢ double date