osclosure

[osclosure]

credit: skamfrance.live

[osclosure]

thea 🗧

“ it’s paper. i don’t think i need to be any special force of nature to fuck it up, ” thea responded, glancing between the book and oscar. “ unless there’s something you aren’t telling me about these books. ” she nodded along to his explanation and even though thea wasn’t herself a novel enthusiast herself, she’d read the book seriously per his request. “ is this like — is there going to be a test ? should i be highlighting quotes or writing things down ? i haven’t been doing that. ” the smile on oscar’s face as she mentioned the snow globe was contagious and thea was slipping the first bit of paper she could reach from behind the counter into the book to keep her page so she could give her full attention now. rather that than folding the corner of the page — something she expected to have a very similar effect as poking a voodoo doll in the heart. “ it looks like an owl, ozzy. i don’t know what you want me to say. i didn’t stare into its eyes and try to pick out an emotion. ” although she was already planning to assign emotions and looks to all the snow globes in his room the next time she was there. “ besides, i just said it reminded me of you because of a wise owl, not that it looked like you. don’t start a fight if it’s ugly. ” thea teased as she gracefully slid off the countertop and made her way to her bag, a brief moment of looking through before she pulled out the bubble wrapped globe. “ remember you can’t pick a fight if you don’t like the owl. it’s a spiritual connection, not your long lost twin, ” she teased, extending it towards him.

"you caught me. they're actually made of flash paper, and this has all been a rouse to ruin your reputation with arson. no, you goober, it just reminded me of you the entire time i was reading it, so i had to make sure a copy found it’s way into your hands. no notes necessary." with thea having slipped from her position atop his display, oscar also returns to a (mostly) standing position, peeking over her turned back to try and catch early glimpses of the owl he was now absolutely sure was meant to look like him. the lady doth protest too much, and all that. “i don’t believe you for even a second, i’ll have you know.” 

oscar fetches a letter opener to slice the packing tape, delicately removing the owl — which, for the record, definitely looked a little perplexed, and oscar thought, at least, had a similar browbone to him — from it’s bubble wrap with a small, soft grin. “thea.” the bar between them is too wide; that’s her problem now, as oscar simply holds his arms out in demand of a hug. “i wanted so badly to pick a fight over something, just to be spiteful, but alas, the spiritual connection is too strong even for sarcasm. it’s adorable. thank you. it’ll fit right in with the others in the collection, don’t you think? bram stoker’s dracula is being kicked off the island next to make room.” 

[osclosure]

mac 🗧

“formal,” he confirms with a nod, leaning back against the counter as he waits for the espresso to brew, “makes me feel like i’m in trouble.” mac hadn’t always hated his name, there’d even been a time when he loved it. he’d gotten it from his grandfather and it’d bonded them, which made breaking his heart that much worse. he’d caught mac rifling through his prescriptions and had never looked at him the same again. he could still remember the way his voice sounded yelling out their shared name, the angry words neither of them meant, he’d enforced nicknames ever since. 

he hesitates for a moment, his hand moving to rest over his notebook as if oscar would snatch it any second. he hasn’t showed anyone his work before, there’d never been a reason to. he’d never really seen writing as a serious thing until he’d gotten to rehab, until his therapist had pointed out that it was his only healthy coping mechanism, when he’d scanned the pages with sober eyes and realized that he might just have some talent. the idea had come to him on his first night home, the locks on the liquor and medicine cabinets taunting him, his own thoughts taking over his head. a two part book, poems from before recovery and after, the two versions of mackenzie walsh. part of him wanted to shoot oscar down, but if his hazy memories served him right oscar was geniune… and kind. maybe just enough to be trusted with the words mac held so close to his chest. “it’s all unedited,” he says slowly, sliding his book over along with oscar’s drink before turning to start making one for himself, “i’ll meet you over there.” 

"i'll tell you what," they're Adults, he nearly wants to remind, to explain that mac couldn't be in Trouble re:oscar if he tried, but the sincerity of mac’s tone makes it far too obvious that that particular topic is not one to push. “once you find a nickname for me that willow hasn’t already laid claim to, i’ll switch. you can’t full-name me and put us on uneven footing, walsh.” not to mention, it was a nice name. admittedly, oscar found himself a touch sad to have to bid adieu to it so soon. 

no worry. the pain was soothed immediately by the promise of prose, and oscar delicately folded the notebook over itself, so he couldn’t peek or tarnish the pages in transit, before flashing a smile at mac. “i remember being on the wisteria weekly with you. unedited work doesn’t scare me if it’s yours.” the once-discarded bag and coffee are added to oscar’s delicate pile for the trek to sofa, though, both items are forgotten as soon as their arrival is deemed safe; his work could fucking wait, as far as oscar was concerned. he draws a delicate finger alongside the cover, folds himself nearly in half to discern mac’s handwriting, treating the notebook with every ounce of protectiveness mac himself had when he first covered it from oscar’s sight.

it’s not an unfamiliar sight, this, oscar lost to the world in favor of reading. this time, it comes with a restless biting of thumbnail, an ugly habit his note-taking usually curbed, and a repetition of the articulate, “fuck.” 

[osclosure]

mac 🗧

mac watched oscar carefully, flustered and face red… it was nice to know some things would never change. he couldn’t but raise his eyebrows in amusement when oscar’s eyes finally met his own, swiping the other man’s card with ease. “mackenzie? god, you always were so formal,” he laughs, turning to start on the drink, “i don’t think anyone who didn’t have a hand in my creation has called me that in years.” 

he braces himself for the questions that are bound to come. it wasn’t anyone’s fault really, people in a town so small couldn’t help themselves. it was evident in everything about him, the lack of red rimming his eyes, his reappearance in lake wisteria, and his absence from the only bar in town, the way he carried himself. something had changed. and even if it was for the better he hated the way people looked at him as he went through the motions of telling them some lie, one they never believed anyway. he knows they want to press further, to know the full story, but frankly it’s none of their fucking business. most people could understand that. his prepared speech is on the tip of his tongue when oscar switches it up, and it takes a second for his mind to catch up. “i like to think so, yes,” another smile, this time softer, “i’ve been writing a set of poems. i’m about halfway done.” 

"formal?" comes his echo, taken aback, if only for a moment, solely out of disagreement. “mackenzie walsh, you have a perfectly handsome name,” and sure, yeah, oscar means it in the handsome woman sort of way, but they’d both be lying if they said the past few months’ sobriety weren’t agreeing with mac, “it’d be a shame to waste any of it’s syllables.”

not that he’d know that that, the absence from the bar, was the source. not that he’d know that in this space of seconds, where silence blankets them like the muffling snow outside, there is contained a full redirect of mac’s mind; but he’s fine to wait for it, anyway, dropping his bag to the flooring aside his boots and propping his palms on the counter to lean in closer. it’s an aggressively personal thing, someone’s work in progress, but oscar still asks, “halfway, huh? is this the sort of set where i have to wait for the finished publication, or the kind where i can be clued in to a couple good stanzas?” there’s a glance behind him, toward his usual workstation: a worn leather couch on the split level that looks far lonelier today than it had before. “please let it be the latter. i could use a good warm-up. figuratively and literally, now that i say it, because, now, i don’t know if i’ve already mentioned this, but — brr.” 

[osclosure]

arthur 🗧

lake wisteria never lets arthur forget just how small of a town it is.  case in point: the big, foreboding THIS GUY AGAIN! lighting up his phone, replacing the random stock photo he’d been using as a reference for the past hour or so.  (man, arthur thinks as he flips his notebook closed.  can’t even get away with hiding in the old bedroom for one night.)

normally, arthur would let it ring like the total ghosting jerk he really is, but oscar delonge manages to be one of those occasional exceptions to the rule.  that’s the other thing lake wisteria never lets arthur forget: there are still people, here, that have left too much of an impression, have left his heart embossed.

“why, good evening to you too.” arthur says, letting the phone on speaker as he already gets up from his desk, eyeing his bookshelf.  “i’ve been doing well, thanks for asking, oscar.”

it really has been a while, though, and he almost feels a bit bad.  “you’re going to have to remind me where you are though.”  but not bad enough to keep from teasing, really.  oscar had it coming.  “where do you work again?” 

“yeah, yeah.” the response comes pre-built into arthur’s teasing, the emotional hand-waving-away of fond criticism, as oscar argues, “we can talk about where you’ve been after i pick that lovely brain of yours.” he’s a man with his priorities. first, seeing arthur’s face again, making sure he’s still corporeal (someone said something about a total ghosting jerk?). second, everything else. 

“...that’s gotta be a joke, right?” and even if it isn’t, it makes oscar laugh anyway. “oh, i think it might be that place we tossed around ideas regarding a coup of after-prom? er, no, no. i think it’s that place we once dissected whether i was team peeta or team gale. you know where i am, art.” the same as his emotional hand-wave, the end of this statement has an emotional thump upon back of head. 

not that he’d ever actually do such a thing. 

probably. maybe. “just get here soon, would you? our asinine arguments are always so much sweeter face to face.” 

[osclosure]

“fuck.” comes the greeting, eloquent as ever from a (one) oscar delonge, shaking snowfall off his shoulders and keeping his head bowed to peel off his gloves, to rummage in a bag slung across his shoulders for his wallet. “uh, christ, just a double shot, please.” the realization of who has asked this question comes delayed — all the way, in fact, until he’s swinging an arm out to offer his card, and surprise at seeing the other is writ all too clearly across his expression. 

it fades, though. into an embarrassed smile, and a wring of the gloves still grasped in palm. “mackenzie walsh? i’d heard you were back, but i didn’t think i’d run into you...” here? “so soon.” smooth. instead of the stereotypical how are you?, the where’ve you been?, oscar’s gaze dips right back down to that notebook, and he asks a question far more typical of himself (and to think, arthur had just tried to train this out of him); “have you been working on anything interesting?” 

closed starter for @osclosure​

late wednesday afternoon the cafe’s clientele had slowed down until it eventually came to a stop. the other barista had helped clean until there was nothing left to do, getting the okay from their boss for one of them to go home. mac had stayed behind, he could use the hours and the distraction anyway. he was leaning on the counter, scribbling in his notebook when he heard the bell above the door chime, signaling that he had a long awaited customer. his eyes flicked up and landed on oscar, a welcome distraction, “what can i get for ya?” 

[osclosure]

willow​ 🗧

closed for @osclosure !

“we’ve got, like, three things for dad, what are we getting for mom?” willow knew she and oscar had to get their holiday shopping out of the way before they could actually enjoy their holiday, but shopping was hard — especially in such a small town. “what about candles? mom likes candles,” a shitty suggestion, but they hadn’t thought of anything beyond that. “mom also likes dogs, what about, stay with me now, dog candles.”

"i swear to god, it feels like i've been looking at those buzzfeed ‘what to get for the person who has everything’ lists for weeks and i still don’t have any concrete ideas.” willow was always the best at catching his abstract ideas and moulding them into something real — that was the reason he liked to imagine they christmas shopped together, not just because they’d never turned back from pooling their allowances together. “pray tell, would dog candles be...candles in the shape of dogs? candles that smell like dogs? candles for dogs?” he laughs, rocking his weight onto one foot to nudge his shoulder into hers. “why couldn’t you have brought something cool back from the big city, huh? saved both our asses.” 

[osclosure]

claire 🗧

“yes? he’s cute and lets me pet him. really all I could ask for.” she says, shrugging her shoulders. getting oscar to put his books down and talk to her with his full attention was something she was proud to say, she had mastered. with a lot of work and understanding that sometimes, he simply wouldn’t. “and you can’t do that when you’re not in a moving vehicle?” she smirked softly. she took a moment to reach down for the to go cup of coffee in the cup holder next to her, taking a long sip before she adjusted her eyes back on the road after glancing at oscar for a moment. “guess i’m excited to see my parents. it’ll be nice to not have to buy my own food for a few weeks and use my dad’s barely used xbox. still can’t believe they won’t let me take that thing to school.” she rolls her eyes then, her eyes softening just at the mention of her name. “I’m excited to see rosie, of course. just.. I know it’s gonna be a little weird too. being back at home where I just know she’ll be around nate a lot, too.” she pauses, “I feel like your hometown is where all secret romances fall apart. somehow, providence is safer.” she gave another shrug. “and i’m pretty excited to see a few other people, too. I think like, our whole class is coming home for the holidays. that’s.. pretty much it?” 

“sorry, would you prefer i check your blindspots for you? admire your nose? it’s not like i’m doing anything else with my eyes.” they’d perfected this dance, the two of them; the beforehand coffee runs, the collaborative spotify playlist, the way oscar still whispered their secrets despite them being wholly alone. “that was...yeah, definitely part of why i was asking. neither of us are exactly known for being...creatures of subtlety or secret.” that was definitely one way of saying it. oscar with elaine, claire with, well, everything. “hey, you can use me as an excuse at any point if you need it? i’ll probably just be home or at the shop, so i make a pretty easy scapegoat.” what else were friends for, other than that barely used xbox they’d almost certainly end up using together despite their already seeing each other constantly? “god, isn’t that crazy? i saw that in the groupchat too. when’s the last time we saw everyone at once? definitely at least a whole semester ago.” 

[osclosure]

✎ an open letter to @arthurlee​ 🗧

“arthur.” it’s oscar’s opening line on the phone; a call, out of the blue, which was not entirely out of he and the younger’s dynamic, but one can imagine, equally concerning every time he did it. presently, he’s surrounded by boxes of new shipment that have been entirely forgotten in favor of this phone call, wherein oscar has chosen to perch atop a precarious stack of books so he could balance one of their brethren against his lap. “what are you reading right now? mm, no, i should probably say what are you doing? first, shouldn’t i? anyway,” clearly, the answer to that un-posed question didn’t entirely matter, as oscar continues with, “i’m at work late because i got caught up with the new releases. it’s a good batch; definite book club material.” this, of course, was in reference to their years-long faux-rivalry, something that, with the addition of other cities’ libraries, had settled into just that. a bookclub. “i know you’re in town. you should swing by, if you’ve got the time... it feels like i haven’t seen you in forever.” 

[osclosure]

"should i be worried over how you think you could break a paperback book?" oscar had been part-timing at the bookstore long enough that thea's position on the counter neither frightened nor surprised him. she'd always had an affinity for being tall, from standing on chairs to stages, and oscar was happy to indulge it, with elbows propped alongside her hip to gaze up at both her and the book she holds. “consider it my own selfish pursuit. i hate when actors don’t read the books that inspired their script, and now i’m preventing that. one thespian at a time.” at the mention of a snowglobe, oscar’s gaze ticks up, a soft smile stretching across his visage as he reflexes, “really?” as if this weren’t a pattern; as if he hadn’t cleared nearly an entire shelf’s worth of his less favorite books to make room for dorothea and her traveling snowglobes. “does the owl look really perplexed? is that why it reminded you of me? no, you’ll have to prove it — did you bring it with you?” 

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖚𝖕 𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘… @osclosure​

dorothea had never been the type to frequent a book store. those little kindle things were so much convenient. or audio books to fill up the silence and lonely dorothea feared getting accustomed to. although she had a feeling oscar would have a whole speech about how it wasn’t the same thing and that she was missing so much without having the book physcially with her. personally she didn’t understand the hype as she absentmindedly flipped through the paper back oscar had handed her before. “ is this like a ‘ you break it, you buy it ’ thing or are we trying to build character here ? ” she asked from where she was sat on the counter. something she was sure anyone else would have told her off for because the spot was probably cleared for a display. “ i got you another snow globe, by the way. it has a little owl in it that kinda reminded me of you. owls are meant to be wise and all that, right ? ”

[osclosure]

claire 🗧

claire almost starts laughing at the question, because her list is.. pretty long this time. longer than usual, at least. “how about we do what I’m not dreading? might be a little shorter and it starts out with my neighbors dog who I haven’t seen in months.” she begins, checking her rearview mirror as they drive the memorized trip from providence to lake wisteria. boy, is she glad she has oscar to make these car rides less dreadful. she glances over at oscar, her eyes rolling in playful annoyance. “I still can’t believe you can read in the car. i’d have my head between my knees at the first sentence.” she chuckles for a second, turning the volume down a beat so they can actually talk. 

"you're looking forward to the ly's dog?" in claire’s defense, it was a horribly cute dog, but that was at the top of the list of positives? oscar couldn’t help but laugh over claire’s priorities, slipping a finger between the pages to dog-ear his place and tuck the paperback between his folded legs, turning to look at claire’s profile properly now. “yeah, well. i’m trying to beat a yearlong personal best, so i gotta cram in a couple more at the buzzer before new year’s.” perhaps it was moments like this when oscar found himself most grateful for claire’s major — she didn’t have a leg to fucking stand on in calling out how nerdy that reasoning was. “so keep going. what are you looking forward to, then?” 

[osclosure]

✎ an open letter to @claire--li 🗧

on the list of things that were bound to kill him someday, putting his feet up on the dash was low, but not completely absent. it being his best friend’s car didn’t change his bad habit, and she was certainly far too used to it to expect anything less by now. this position typically came, today being no exception, with a book propped against his legs, which oscar doesn’t even bother to look up from as he softly inquires, nearly entirely beneath the volume of the music claire had chosen for their trek back to lake wisteria, “what are you dreading the most about being back this time, c?” 

[osclosure]

Euphoria (2019—) Created by Sam Levinson

[osclosure]

         oscar delonge — an intro !! 

        featuring: a smidge of manic-depressive tendencies, a whole lotta ghost-writing, being that insufferable “actually, have you read...?” guy, mole-skin notebooks, and never getting over your first love

[ character inspirations: rory gilmore (gilmore girls), jess mariano (gilmore girls), dale cooper (twin peaks), benedict bridgerton (duh), ben hargreeves (umbrella academy) ] 

TBA DETAILS: the concentration of his major, the source of he and elaine’s breakup, other inter-muse connections (especially joanne and joel), wanted connections

IMPORTANT THINGS: he’s still in love with elaine, and it’s embarrassing how much everyone knows it. 🖉 typically, he’ll be found a short distance away on brown’s campus (couldn’t bear to be too far from family, plus their english program is stellar), but when he’s home (which is often, see above), yes, this 24-year-old does sleep in his childhood bedroom. 🖉 when he’s home, he works for the local bookstore, giving unsolicited opinions and running a painstaking inventory. 🖉 probably wrote at least one essay, took one test, or offered act-prep to your muse. 🖉 virgo sun, pisces moon. practical and intelligent on the surface, a broiling mess of emotions beneath. when’s the last time you weren’t distracting yourself with six different projects at once? 

[ further stats: cismale, he/him, bisexual. notorious for not responding to messages on tinder, though. ]

FUN FACTS BC BUG IS TIRED: the thing about his aesthetic being wax sealed letters is true - willow got him one of those wax kits years ago and he’s used it ever since. his handwriting is garbage, but who can complain about an illegible love letter when it’s sealed with a monogrammed stamp? 🖉 any time he reads, he has a notebook open at his right hand, taking notes and jotting down thoughts as he goes. 🖉 has a tattoo of sisyphus & his boulder 🖉 the delonge family is half-french, on their father’s side; he works in theater, directing local productions and assisting when requested, so he was the main hand in willow and oscar’s raising. still, oscar has a bit of stage-fright, and relegates his “art” to blogspot posts. 🖉  loves a good crossword puzzle, and will lose any game of beer pong you challenge him to. 

[osclosure]