#idk was this the tag thingy wtfks

[wyatt-rhys]

"We're going to be late..." Whatever sense of urgency he'd been hoping to get across to his two best friends had gone unnoticed, as they continued to scramble around in the backseat of Jeremy's car. "Is it this one?" ---

"Oh my god! That's where that disappeared to! But no, look harder." With a defeated sigh, Wyatt leaned back against the passenger door of the BMW, as Jeremy and Kelsey continued to look around in the back of his car for one of her earrings. He'd contemplated leaving the two to it and going on alone, but then that would mean facing what laid ahead alone and truthfully, he wasn't sure he was up to it. Life had been complicated lately. Which-- sure, life had been complicated since last summer, but this was different. Messier. Somehow. Tuning out the bickering over some girl's bra, Wyatt found his thoughts heading in an all to familiar direction as of late. Heading towards her. Wyatt thought about French class Friday, where the two of them had been forced to pair up, and start preparations on an almost comedically ironic subject, 'French Folklore: The Beast of Gévaudan. When he'd taken up the opportunity to ask about truth over their fictitious report. What had he managed to pull from lips that didn't want to open? Not much. Just a few words that added to his confusion; omega, blood moon, mortal immortality. Not the place. Is what she'd told him. When, then? Where? Had been his reply before the bell rang and put an end to that. He had managed to convince her to let him put his number in her phone, even if his reasoning had come down to the project that neither of them had managed to make too much headway with. If actual answers had existed in those folklores he would've found Google a lot more useful than he'd had.

And truth be told he hadn't been expecting to hear from her until a few nights before the paper was due, so when an unknown number appeared on his phone tonight, asking him and his friends out, he'd been surprised to say the least. Were they friends now? Like, he knew her friends and her were somewhat friendly with, Jeremy and Kelsey, but that was mostly through Jeremy's weed supply.. and they could've got that without having to ask them all out to see some horror movie. So, this was weird and this had Wyatt overthinking just about everything about the text and what had led up to it, before he even got around to texting her back a simple 'Okay. Sounds good.' It was also why he'd taken so long getting ready and his mom had made a quip about a date. Which, "no, mom. it's just a group of us." She walked up to him, taking a smell, "cologne? Okay..." He kind of hated her. Just a little.

"I GOT IT!"

"Jer, that is a Cheez DoodleO..." Ugh, they were never going to make it in time.

Finally, like after what actually felt like an eternity, Kelsey had her missing hoop back in her ear and they were walking across the half lit parking lot, and into The Curtain. Jeremy had his arm around Kelsey and despite not being a thing, Wyatt had never not got the impression that both of them were kind of waiting for one of them to make a less obnoxious and more obvious move by now. Ignoring the two and their debates about ditching everyone and seeing a reshowing of Dirty Dancing--no, Star Wars! If they could only just agree on something then they might actually be able to change the world someday... he thought, amusing himself, a small smile sliding across his face as he came face to face with Leah, well her red-haired friend, who'd jumped between them and made some comment about his snack-less hands. Oh, yeah right.. popcorn. "Uh, yeah sure.. what do you recommend milk duds or red vines?"

After he paid for everything, he'd asked if Sarah could take his snacks inside, while he made a quick break for the toilet before the movie started. He stole another glance across at Leah, as he awkwardly placed his popcorn and jumbo cola in between her friend's hands, before he broke away and made his way to the back of the theatre. In the time, he came back to the foyer the crowd had dispersed and he was forced to enter blindly into the already darken theatre room, as he made his way towards Jeremy's messy bob. A truly heroic beacon in the night. "Uh,--" He'd been about to take a seat beside Jeremy at the end of the row, when he heard Sarah, mention she'd saved him a seat next to her. Well, he supposed she did after all have his snacks. He excused himself pass Jeremy's long legs and Kelsey's all-to-obvious face, that he was totally going to ignore, before sinking into the chair beside Sarah and Justin. "Thanks." He reached over and took his drink and snacks from the red-head, "here, you definitely earned yourself a milk dud.." and no, Kelsey's snicker did not go unnoticed.

As Wyatt watched the house catch alight, he found himself growing warmer, though not in response to the screen, but as Sarah's fingers started to brush against his own. A move he still deciding whenever or not to respond to when he'd first heard it. An irregular heartbeat; louder than his own, and much louder than Sarah's own slightly nervous one. No, this was inconsistent to the sounds of the adolescents, this was fear. Real deep fear. The kind he'd hadn't heard since that night back in Bakersfield. He looked around. His ears and eyes narrowing in on the host. Leah? What did she have to be afraid of? Surely, not some b-grade horror movie that he had to pin to Justin's questionable tastes, right? And still, he listened and he watched, and he saw it consume her. The implacable part of him kept his eyes on her even as he felt Sarah's seek out his own, "Wyatt?" He was forced to tear his eyes away from Leah and the scene she'd just caused as she jumped out of her seat. "Uh, I need another drink. I just remembered I don't like root beer. Do you want anything?" It wasn't a good lie, but thankfully Sarah bought it or at least the opportunity to get a refill for her own drink, as he crept out of his seat and followed Leah, out of the cinema.

It was brighter out here, but still there was some element of privacy between the two doors and the alcove that hung above. Psycho? Had someone actually said that? He'd have denied it more convincingly if he'd known who'd said it, instead he tip-toed around the word altogether, and simply asked, "are you okay?" Or perhaps that wasn't as simple of a question as he'd originally thought, because something had panicked her, something enough to get her out of her seat and across two other's in less than a few seconds.. something more than just some dumb movie. He thought back to the sound of her heartbeat thumping inside his ears and stole a glance towards where it still seemed to beat out in anguish, "what happened in there?" Was he talking about her chest or the theatre and was there a difference?

He took a breath, because he still wasn't sure if he was asking the right questions or if he should've been here asking her anything at all, but he couldn't just turn away either. She hadn't left him alone in those woods a few weeks ago. And she definitely could have, so it was his turn to stay and make sure she was going to be alright. There was an urge inside of him to reach out, to hold her, comfort her, in any way he could really... but where this urge had come from even Wyatt wasn't quite sure he was ready to admit.

@wyatt-rhys thread: feel the heat location: the curtain; movie theater

Movies were never her thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the complex art of storytelling through visual medium as such, but truthfully… she’d heard them all and trying to sit still for a minimum of an hour and a half felt like pulling splinters from beneath her nails. And yet - as the ever-doting best friend, she’d once again agreed to rally everyone up for their bi-monthyly cinema date. It was all part of the act, weeks out from graduating and trying to pull together as much time as possible with the people who’d managed to get her through another four years of pretending like adolescence was all new to her. There were certainly a great many places she would rather be. Sarah, however, would have never shut up about it - and sometimes the wrath of the redhead that sat next to her now ranked right up there with some of the worst she’d experienced before. 

Not nearly as mindlessly as she might have hoped, Leah tried to slow the bounce in her knee. Impatience, digging in beneath her ribcage as they awaited the doors somewhere beyond the smoky haze of The Curtain’s lobby to open and allow them through to take their seats. Her other leg tucked up beneath her as she sat upon the old cracked leather of the “seating” just outside, grew numb. An ironic parallel to the ringing in her ears as she sat in wait, trying her best to zone out the conversation that hung somewhere in the dim lighting, clinging to the haze that she’d never quite figured out the origin of after all these years. 

The popcorn feels stale, but it’s hot and she’s had worse. It’s not much of a loss when Hunter grabs a fistfull, scooping it out as if he had shovels for hands and more than a few pieces scatter across the floor in-front of her, “We did tell him the right time, right?” Sarah asks, looking rather pointedly at Leah, “You did tell him the right time, right?” Because it’d been her responsibility to text Wyatt - even if it was her best friend who was hoping he’d show. In truth, Leah wanted to put as much space between her and the greenie as she possibly could. For no other reason than, she just couldn’t be bothered with the work it’d take to keep a new wolf in check; but she knew that look. The one that made it impossible to say no to - she only wondered if she’d ever been as hopeful as the girl who’d latched onto her four years prior. “He’s coming okay, he said something about picking up Kelsey and Jer. Not sure a movie was a great choice if you were hoping to talk to him,” Which, she was - Sarah was. A repetitive reminder she told herself as Sarah tried to manipulate the order of everyone’s seats as the three wayward friends approached a few minutes later. “Leah, switch with me.” A whisper spoken far too quickly for her to comprehend before lithe fingers plucked her ticket stub from her own. “What?..-- Yeah, right.. Okay.” What the fuck was happening? “God, he’s so cute.” A throw-away comment, or at least she hopes so - what exactly is she meant to say? The best she can offer is a curt nod and a smile that’s barely there as Wyatt and the others join them. Two wolves from separate packs being in such close proximity was never a good thing, it’d been pure luck that kept them both alive and allowed them to be standing there as the doors opened. Sarah squeezed her hand, and try as she might, the look on her face as they were soon shrouded in darkness didn’t share the same breath of excitement as her best friends. 

It’s all she can do to count down the time until the lights come on, Sarah had somehow found her way to the seat beside Wyatt and left her squashed between Justin and Liam fighting for the very air she needed to breathe while they sucked all of it right up as they spoke over her. The bucket of popcorn sits on her lap, the dust of butter and salt flung about as the pair dig into it as if it might be the last thing they ever eat and though she’s always been one of the boys, this is just one more reason that her patience feels as though it’s worn thin. “Twenty bucks,” Justin whisper-shouts over her to Jackson, “Fuck off, you cheapskate.” The lid of Jackson’s soda pops off as he throws a half assed fist across her shoulders and into Justin as he chuckles, the chill of iced soda spills across the denim of her knee and immediately she hates the feel of it. Somewhere between meaning to cuss him out, and trying to ignore the fact that they were putting down a bet on whether Jackson could fuck Sarah before Wyatt did, the flicker of something in the reflection of a singular ice cube strikes her down cold. A trick of the light, that’s her immediate thought. Even as it flickers again, and her throat closes over. It’s the amber glow that drowns out the haze of the once dark room that encroaches upon the last of her patience. Only, it’s not anger that breaks through. The crackling sound bearing down from the mounted speakers, and even though she’s crowded into the tiny, uncomfortable seat by people on all sides, she’s thousands of miles away, alone. Watching flames engulf a house entirely different to the one on the screen. Her leg has stopped bouncing, and, try as she might to look anywhere but the flicker of flames that illuminate the screen, it’s impossible to do so without someone noticing that Leah Grey exists in that moment only because her heart hammers against her ribcage like a tribal drum. The shatter of glass erupts, and she feels the way she flinches all the way to her bones, and with each new crack in the glass, she loses her breath. The voice over the speakers cries out, but it’s not the voice she hears in her head. She smells burning flesh and the bucket of popcorn hits the floor as she jumps to her feet, involuntarily. “Sorry.. sorry..-’ And though nobody has a hold of her, the space between the row in-front and the guys beside her feels miniscule at best. “What the fuck, Leah?” Justin growls out, brushing the mess of popcorn from his lap as if she’s personally offended him, “Just move,” his legs block her way and it takes her three takes to push beyond him, the whole while trying to keep her voice as low as possible, when all she feels growing is the cry caught up in her throat. The arm of the chair snaps, as she shoves her way through, all but climbing over the few others she had to, to make the isle in minimal steps. The last thing she hears, beyond the unrivaled crackle of fire and destruction, is the word psycho die out on Jackson’s tongue. Heat, rage - and screaming. One voice, the most familiar. She calls out, over and over, for someone - anyone. She's always too late. The cool air makes no difference. Even beyond the haze and smoke that may or may not even be there, she fights to fill her lungs and no amount of oxygen seems to flush the memory from her lungs. “I’m fine,” she snaps, unsure exactly of who she expected to see as the doors beside her swing open, the shadow of another taking up space at the toe of her boots. Inhale. She tries - fails, and coughs out some attempt to cover it up. “Just, being a little psycho.” It’s muttered, because she doesn’t actually expect anyone else to have heard that, bar Justin and Jackson, but it stung enough to matter.