#wtfoc

[aristolii]

pq me llamo fckcorpse wtfoc

[ghosttotheparty]

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

2. I just wanna go where I can get some space AO3

Lucas doesn't know what to do with himself. 

He still hasn’t worked up the energy or motivation to unpack beyond what he needs, even after weeks of being in Antwerp. He’s barely even worked up the motivation to get out of bed. 

He’s barely left the apartment, even after his two-week quarantine mostly in his room (during which he unpacked a few shirts and the white comforter that’s strewn across his mattress, which lies on the floor next to a window), despite his father’s demands that he get groceries. That was their first fight after Lucas moved in. Words had been thrown around the room. Lucas wishes he had thrown other things too. Anything that might just convince his father to send him back to Utrecht. Maybe some plates. Glass. But he figures that would probably just get his father’s belt lashed at him. 

When his father finally surrendered to letting Lucas stay home, he told him to unpack. And then told him that he isn’t allowed to put anything on the walls. Not even with tape. 

So Lucas has boxes and boxes filled with things he can do nothing with but look at. Photos he’d printed before moving specifically to put on his walls, that he now just thumbs through longingly, gazing at Kes and Jayden and Isa and Liv. He even has photos of Noah, whom he’d gotten closer to in the days before the move. Noah had given him a goodbye gift of a set of pencils accompanied with a wink and a hug later on that night. He’d told Lucas that he’d caught him doodling on a napkin at a get-together a few weeks before. 

“You’re pretty good,” Noah had told him. “You could do it seriously.”

“I do,” Lucas had responded. “I just don’t show anyone.” 

“Well maybe if you show more people, more people will get you new supplies.” 

Lucas had just made a face and allowed him a “Maybe.” 

The pencils are in the same box as all his sketchbooks, the ones he’s started filling with drawings and doodles, and the ones that are completely blank, bought before he moved just in case he wouldn’t be able to buy any after arriving.  In the box, he also has watercolours and paints and an abundance of brushes, along with palette knives he’s never used. The box is on the floor next to his door. He moved it from the top of a stack of boxes after needing to find his lined notebooks for school. And his clothes. 

Anyway. 

The photos. 

He remembers when they were taken. He heard a lot of laughter that day. He had taken some before Kes had snatched his phone (freshly cleared of storage just for the occasion), and taken more than Lucas had bothered to count. Pictures of Lucas and Isa, Isa by herself, Lucas and Liv, Lucas and Janna, Lucas and Engel, Lucas and Noah, Lucas and Jayden, Lucas and Ralph, before he had begun taking photos of them not posing. Photos of them eating, laughing, talking, hugging.  Them all existing. 

They were beautiful.

Lucas had told Kes he could be a photographer. Kes had said he’s never thought about it. 

Then Lucas had taken his phone back and taken photos of Kes and the others until his storage ran out.

He printed each and every one of them.

He flips through them whenever he can, grinning and rolling his eyes at the photos of Jayden making a face and the photo of Noah flipping his middle finger to Kes with a flat face, smiling fondly at the photo of Liv and Isa hugging, Isa’s cheek squished against Liv’s, gazing longingly at the ones of them all together. 

He sighs. 

He supposes he feels lonely now. Of course, he’s still been talking to them, chatting and giggling at the stupid videos and memes they send, but he hasn’t seen or touched them since he moved. He thinks he misses that the most. Hugging, shaking hands, receiving cheek kisses from Isa and Janna and Ralph. Sitting on a sofa and immediately feeling someone’s leg press against his, or lay over his lap. Feeling someone’s head rest on his shoulder, someone’s fingers mess with his curls. He misses when Isa would stand too close while talking to him, close enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close while she speaks. He misses when Kes’s thigh would press against his as they sat side-by-side, and when Jayden would greet him with a fist to his shoulder, or Ralph with a pinch on his cheek. 

He hasn’t touched anyone since moving. He doesn’t think the accidental brushes against his father’s shoulders as he storms past count. 

He misses it, more so sometimes than others. Sometimes he misses it so badly he aches, pulling a pillow to his chest, or wrapping his arms around his legs, trying to feel some sort of contact, some sort of pressure. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll forget what it feels like to touch other people. He, no one for that matter, doesn’t know when it’ll be completely safe to touch others, to hang out with them without covering their faces, to greet them with kisses on the cheek, the way Janna likes to. He doesn’t even know if he’ll have anyone he’ll want to do those things with. 

He doubts he’ll find friends like Kes and Jayden, kind of doubts he’ll find friends full stop. 

It’s not like he’s going to have the opportunity to get to know anyone at school, as they’re not even at school. And it’s not like he really wants to make friends, anyway. He’ll just leave Antwerp after high school, just have to say goodbye. The first chance he gets, he’s leaving on a train back to Utrecht. He’ll figure his life out from there. 

But for now, this is what he has: a mattress on the floor. Blank walls. Towering cardboard boxes. A stash of cigarettes and weed hidden between his mattress and the wall. His skateboard propped up against a stack of boxes. His laptop sitting on top of a box, ready for when he finally starts school, which he’s dreading. 

Just more things to do. 

More chores. 

Everything feels like a chore lately. If he thinks about it, everything’s felt like a chore for a while now. Instead of a to-do list, he has a fuck, I still have to do that list. It takes energy to roll out of bed. It takes commitment to wake up. 

It’s gotten worse since he got to Antwerp. Maybe, he thinks, because it’s so much work to exist in the same place as his father, who blames him for every single thing the universe throws his way. But he also thinks it’s because there’s no one here to shake him out of it. Back home, he would get texts and texts from his friends, telling him to meet them at the skatepark, at a cafe, at some party. Giving him things to do. 

Here, he still gets texts. 

He answers them laying in bed. 

He doesn’t know how to explain it. 

It feels like something is missing. Like there’s an emptiness in him. It’s easier to ignore when he’s around other people, when he’s listening to loud music and talking and laughing, or scrolling endlessly on social media. It’s easier to pretend there’s something there, on that empty shelf in his chest. 

Sometimes it’s sadness, he thinks. Especially since he moved. Sadness from missing home, missing people. But most of the time it’s just… nothing. 

And he can’t really spend time with his friends, so he scrolls. Or draws or paints. But he hasn’t been making much art beyond sketches lately. 

Part of him hopes he might make some friends when school starts, at least some people to chat with, or hang out with when it’s safe. But if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s not expecting to. He doesn’t even remember how he became friends with most of the friends he has. Kes and Isa had, for lack of a better word, adopted him when they were younger, had taken him under their wings and shown him the ropes of existence. 

Which feel like they’re unravelling. 

Lucas rolls over in bed, looking up at his laptop on the boxes, sighing. This is his life now. Boxes and the internet. The sound of his father tripping down the hall, grumbling to himself because Lucas isn’t there to scold. (This is just about the only instance Lucas can think of when he hears his father’s voice. The amount of words they’ve exchanged outside of their fights could usually be counted on two hands.) He’ll finally hear some voices that don’t belong to his father next week when he goes to class. 

The thought of going back to school, even through video calls and online assignments, makes him itch. He’s picked his lips red and raw in the past few days, without Isa to swat his hands away from his face before he can start tasting blood. When he lets his mind wander, his leg starts to bounce. His mom would set her hand on his knee, making it stop, and chuckle while telling him he’s making her seasick. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

He already has lots of emails from teachers; he checks every time he uses his laptop, but he hasn’t responded to any of them. They all sound the same.

This is new to all of us The school year looks very different this year Thank you all for doing your best! These are uncertain times This digital landscape is difficult to navigate This is a unique challenge This could be an opportunity for you

All monotonous, inspiring voices of people waiting. 

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to respond to any of them. 

He tries to think that is really is something everyone is experiencing. That This is new to all of us and We’re all doing what we can, but he feels like he’s in it alone. He knows even Kes and the others aren’t seeing each other in person, aren’t hugging and hanging out the way Lucas longs to, but at least they’re at home. Lucas is stuck in a box, and it feels like it’s closing around him. 

He sighs again, shutting his eyes. It’s not quite dark yet, but he feels exhausted, even after doing nothing all day. He’ll probably wake up in a few hours anyway. And he’ll open his blinds, looking out at the city, just half-alive, just like him. 

[queenwille]

seeing sander was too worried about how robbe was feeling to send that video was like

[3416]

Wait a damn fucking second. The new leak, that's Sander beside Robbe right? Please someone tell me it is, because you can see a little glimpse of hair and IT'S WHITE, I REPEAT I FUCKING REPEAT IT'S WHITE PLATINUM BLONDE WHATEVER IT'S SANDER RIGHT?? HE BLEACHED HIS HAIR AGAIN?? IF I'M WRONG, I'M GOING TO BE THE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS BUT IT LOOKS LIKE HIM. This Sander absence is making me go feral 😭

idk if it can be called a leak when it’s jsut a bts vid and we can garner nothing from it, but WHERE ARE U SEEING THE WHITE..... PLS SUBMIT A SCREENSHOT OR PUT IT IN AN ASK OR SMTH..... IM ON DEKSTOP N I AM LIKE ZOOMING IN................, ,,,, WHERE

[hopetofantasy]

Everybody is watching wtfock for their personal reasons. Saying, that "if you're watching, you're a racist", is unacceptable. That's bad, in another words. It's simply not anybody's business to know, who are watching this season of wtfoc, and who are not, and advisery, well, is not also right thing to do. If you're think, this season is not worth of watching, or smh, stop watch. But advisery and shaming those, who still be involved in the season, is not the right behavior.

I agree that people have still have their own choice, ofcourse.

I advised people to not watch the show only if they wanted to drop the views - which is more impactful than comment spam -, but in the end, it's still their choice.

[eskamtrash]

It's so interesting to watch non wtfoc fans get excited abt the opportunity to openly trash wtfock (rather than spend time enjoying the remake that they appreciate) and seek as much attention by incl. #wtfock rather than just #anti wtfock on their posts. Then i notice the v active antis are fans of remakes that reg get trashed lol u wanna share the burden. Ur concentrated interest in a remake u don't watch is obvs partially and predictably inspired by bitterness and the op to deflect negativity

babyyy i have time to love my remake AND hate others dont worry!!!! its called multitasking!!! and im not the one sending anons to the people who hate my remake are i??? :)))

[fatousbian]

what's happening with wtfoc*?

I havent watched it but apparently they dropped a clip of sander pressuring robbe to have Skype sex which is....just super uncomfortable and weird considering the levels of sexualization that ship has already gone through

[softestdahyun]

so it is my first time drawing on my computer in a long time, and it had to be about Supergirl in Training by @wtfoc

[solo-silenzio]

scusa, posso chiederti cosa stanno combinando con la quinta stagione di wtfoc*? no la sto seguendo ma da quello che posti sembra che i creatori si siano fumati qualcosa di pesante

hanno seguito e reso peggiore la trama dell'og... yasmina ha creato un account a nome di britt per vendicarsi e sebbene la stronza abbia detto cose orribili anche e soprattutto su di lei, le ragazze della squad l'hanno difesa continuamente... britt ha pensato l'account fosse stato creato da amber e quindi si è vendicata con un fotomontaggio super volgare... una schifezza

[iimalex]

oc blog !!!

i made a blog for my oc’s yay ! @wtfoc

on there right now is plenty of info for jasmine plus her backstory :D

[ghosttotheparty]

cotton candy skies always look better in person

3. also available on AO3 chapter 2

“I’m all yours”?

Who the fuck says that to someone they just met?

Although, Lucas didn’t seem to mind the statement, even if it was a little weird. Jens had almost made a face at himself, almost apologized, but every sense of embarrassment disappeared when Lucas’s smile widened. Fuck, that smile.

Jens has been thinking about it all week. Really he’s been thinking about Lucas all week, everything about him. It’s like Jens took a picture of him with his mind. Or several pictures. Jens remembers everything. The way his hair fell in his face, the way he pushed it back to look at Jens. The polish on his nails that shined as the sunlight hit it. The silver rings on his fingers, the Jens noticed he twisted sometimes. The striped shirt that peeked out from under the dark hoodie that he wore, a hoodie that looked a size or two too big. The necklaces that hung down from his neck (which Jens didn’t stare at when he wasn’t looking), a few chains and one with a key. The ripped jeans that clung to his legs (which Jens definitely didn’t stare at when he wasn’t looking).

Jens thinks about him almost every second of every day. It’s like his name is stuck in his head.

Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas…

His name and his eyes.

Those fucking eyes.

Jens would compare them to the sky or the sea but really no words could do them justice. Jens stared into them for so long that night that they were engraved into his mind, which Jens was fine with.

Jens finds himself smiling randomly during the day, even at school in the middle of conversations and lessons, remembering those eyes. Or something Lucas said that night. Or just remembering Lucas exists. The guys all ask what’s up, why he’s suddenly grinning to himself, and he tells them he’s thinking about something Lotte said that morning, or a meme. He considers spilling everything right there, the ballet, the bisexuality, and the boy. But he doesn’t. He’s kept dance a secret for so long. He wants to keep Lucas a secret for a little longer too.

Although, he thinks, if everything goes the way he hopes it does, he won’t be able to for much longer. If Lucas feels the same way, which as much as Jens hopes he does and suspects he does, he can’t bring himself to believe, maybe Jens will be okay with everyone knowing everything. Maybe he won’t have to hide anymore. 

But that isn’t happening yet. They’ve only hung out once (for hours), and Jens doesn’t even know his last name. Or his phone number, which Jens wants more than anything. 

To be honest, Jens doesn’t really know what it is about Lucas that makes him feel like this. No one’s ever made him feel like this, feel so… whatever it is. He feels like he trusts Lucas, strangely, despite meeting him only once. Lucas knows about the ballet, knows everything about the ballet, and Jens is fine with it. Fine with Lucas knowing things about him that his closest friends don’t. Fine with it, and comfortable with it, really. Talking about ballet was easy with Lucas. (Unless he made direct eye contact with him. If that happened, all bets were off and his mouth forgot how to speak.) He wasn’t shy about it. And Lucas saw him in pink tights for fuck’s sake, what was talking about dance compared to that?

Jens doesn’t wear his pink tights today. But he also doesn’t change out of his practise clothes. He keeps on his black leggings, sliding his red hoodie and oversized jacket before putting in an earring as he talks to Damien.

“Guess who has to watch their brother again?” Damien says harshly, pulling a shirt on. 

“Ew, why?”

“My parents are going on a date-”

“Cute.”

“-and apparently my other brother isn’t mature enough to hold down the fort.”

“Wait, you have two brothers?” 

Damien freezes, a hand on the door of his locker, and stares at Jens in disbelief.

“Where exactly have you been for the past four years?”

Jens shrugs.

“Under a rock, I guess.”He pulls the strap of his bag over his after tugging his shoes on. On the way to the door, he pauses and smooths his hair down. When it doesn’t work, he fluffs it back up again, turning his head and analyzing it in the reflection. 

“Who are you trying to look good for?” Damien approaches his shoulder, clutching his bag to his chest. Jens sighs.

“Your mom.”

“Oh-kay.” 

“You should ask Rosa to hang out with you while you watch your brother,” Jens says, changing the subject. He hasn’t told Damien, or Lena or Rosa, about Lucas. He opens the door, standing out of the way so Damien can get past. 

“Thanks.” Damien waits for his outside as another dancer passes through the door Jens is holding open. “And no thanks, I don’t think she’ll want to.”

“I think she’d be down for anything if you’ll be there.”

They make their way down the steps and to the main door, squeezing past the jazz dancers getting ready for practice. Another ballerina is holding the door open, and they both thank her as they pass. Outside the skies are mostly clear, clouds scattered in the horizon. 

“Boys!” Lena jumps on Jens’s back and he catches her legs so she doesn’t fall. “How we doing?”

“You’re in a good mood,” Damien notes as she slides down, landing on her feet and keeping an arm around Jens’s neck. Rosa rolls her eyes.

“She’s been talking nonstop since practice ended. I think she’s high.” 

“I am not,” Lena says, pointing at her. “But! I have a date tonight and it’s gonna be fun.” 

“Why do you go on dates on Thursday?” Damien asks as he steps out of the way so a girl can pass. “Doesn’t it make more sense to go out on Fridays? Then you can stay out later.”

“Oh, baby Damien…” She lets go of Jens (he straightens his back from bending over) and pats Damien’s cheeks, holding his face. “No one said I have to sleep.” 

“Yeah, but-” Jens stops listening.

He looks to the sides, outside the convenience store, hoping to see a certain curly-haired Dutch boy, to no avail. Jens looks around, craning his neck slightly to see into the alleyway, and scans the sidewalk on the other side of the street. He doesn’t see Lucas. 

He looks back at his friends, worrying. Maybe Lucas forgot. Or maybe he changed his mind. Jens’s heart sinks. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to get ready for my Thursday night date,” Lena’s voice cuts into his thoughts. She emphasizes “Thursday night,” cutting an intense look to Damien. “I gotta go.” She hugs Rosa and Damien and turns to Jens, holding her hand out. 

“You okay?” she asks as he grabs it, pulling her in so their shoulders bump. Her eyebrows are turned up, worried. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m tired, I didn’t eat much before practice.” He’s gotten good at lying on the spot. 

“Ah.” She smacks the back of his hand before turning away. “Fill up that belly, my friend. Bye, guys!” And she’s gone.

“I have to watch my brother tonight,” Damien says, sighing as he checks the time on his watch.

“Ugh, that sucks.” Rosa looks at him sympathetically. “I’m so glad my parents don’t make me watch mine anymore, he’s a nightmare.” She looks down at her phone, responding to a text, and Jens catches Damien’s eye over her head. Fucking ask her, he mouths. Damien shakes his head. I swear to God. Jens’s eyes widen, making a threat. What exactly he’s threatening he doesn’t know, but it seems to work. 

“Rosa, do you want to come over?” Damien’s face darkens as she looks up at him. “It’ll be with my brother so we’ll probably just watch a movie, but I can make pizza. Or something,” he finished awkwardly.

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” She sends the text and looks at Jens. “You’re coming?” 

“No, I’ve got something,” he answers, smiling. 

“Oh, okay.” She reaches up for a hug and Jens embraces her, holding his hand up in an “okay” sign behind her back for Damien to see. Damien grins.

“I’ll see you next week!” She waves as she and Damien walk away. Jens watched them go, smiling when Rosa’s shoulder bumps into Damien, and he pulls out his phone to send a  text to Lena.

Rosa and Damien: ✔

He looks up as two blue check marks appear ar his message, glancing around to see if he can see Lucas anywhere. When he doesn’t, he looks back at his phone to see Lena’s messages.

WHAT ARE

YOU TALKING ABOUT He laughs, typing.

Chill, they’re just hanging out He pauses and adds another message.

Watching Damien’s brother

Before Lena sends her message, something bumps Jens’s shoulder and he looks up, startles, into those eyes.

“Hey.” Lucas sounds out of breath and his cheeks are pink. 

“Hi.” Jens steps back, looking him up and down. He’s wearing an old sweater, that one could call a grandpa sweater, and black jeans. He’s got on the same necklaces as last time, but now the strap of camera bag is around his neck, too. Jens’s eyes pause for half a second at a rainbow pin on it before looking back up into his eyes, which get smaller as he smiles. 

He looks the way fresh paint smells.

Fucking intoxicating.

“I was wondering where you were,” Jens says after taking a breath. He slides his phone into his pocket. 

“Sorry, I got a little lost on the way here.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I just ran down the street,” he says, pointing behind himself with a thumb when Jens raises his eyebrows. 

“Just for me?”

“Of course, who else?” Jens grins. 

“I brought the weed today, by the way.” “Ah, hell yeah.” Lucas turns, beckoning him toward the alley. “You have to sit in the light.”

“Why?” Jens asks, confused, and Lucas turns, walking backwards, and hold up the camera case, smiling mischievously. Jens grins as he digs the joint out of the front pocket of his bag. 

Silently, the two of them lift themselves onto the dumpster. Lucas slips as he gets up, and Jens is already reaching out to catch him when he catches himself. Jens’s face burns.

“How was practice?” Lucas asks as Jens lights the joint. Jens looks at him, surprised, although he doesn’t know why, and he tucks the lighter back into his bag, which he had tossed behind himself.

“Good.” Lucas raises his eyebrows and nods, gesturing with his hand for him to keep going. “I’m fucking tired.” 

“You do pointe, right?”

Jens nods as he takes another drag.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw your shoes the first time I saw you.” 

“Right.” He looks away, feeling like there’s a wildfire burning in his chest. 

“Heard it’s difficult.” Lucas reaches out for the joint and Jens passes it to him. Their fingers brush.

“It is. Very.” 

“Respect.” Lucas holds the joint up like he’s giving a toast before bringing to his lips, and Jens can’t help but watch his cheeks hollow as he inhales. And then he forces himself to look away. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Good. Better now.” Jens’s face turns pink. There’s a pause. “My dad called earlier.” Lucas is making a face when Jens turns to look. 

“Gross.”

Lucas’s laugh is something made of magic.

“What did he say?” Jens asks. 

“Nothing good. Or interesting.” Lucas holds the joint out and Jens is struck with sudden boldness. He grabs Lucas’s hand, his fingers under Lucas’s, gently, and leans forward to examine his nails. They’re all shirt, a few of them painted a dark blue-green, the others natural and shiny. Pretty. 

“I like your nails.” He lifts his hand and takes the joint, looking at Lucas, whose eyes are slightly wide.

“Yeah?” “Mm-hmm.”

He lifts it to his mouth, leaning back on his hand, and takes a slow drag, his heart beating fast, but feeling more at ease than he’s felt all week. And he doesn’t think it’s just the weed.

“I like this,” Lucas’s voice says.

He starts to turn but stops when he sees Lucas’s hand come close to his face, and feels his earring gently. 

“You do?” he asks, feeling like he could start screaming.

“Yeah, it’s…” Lucas trails off and retracts his hand, placing it on his camera, which Jens hadn’t seen him take out of the bag.

“It’s…” Jens bobs his head at him and Lucas suppresses a smile. 

“Hot.” 

Complete anarchy fills his head, complete with screaming, sirens, flashing lights.

“Ah.” He grins and turns away again, taking a drag. 

“Here, do something.” Lucas pulls his legs up in front of himself, crossing them, and points the camera at him. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t fucking know, anything.” 

Jens swings a leg up in front of himself and lets the other dangle as he takes one more drag. He drops his hands in front of his lap, opening his mouth and letting the smoke drift around his face. He hears the camera click several times. 

He hears a very quiet “Yeah…” and grins behind the smoke. Lucas lowers the camera, looking at the screen, and then looks up, giving Jens thumbs up. 

“Good?” Jens asks.

“Yeah.” Lucas raises the camera again, leaning back slightly.  “Do something else.” 

Jens lifts the leg that’s in front of him so his knee is upright, and brings the joint back up, holding it between his lips as he puts his forearm on his knee and rests his chin on his arm. He watches as Lucas’s lips curve into a smile behind the camera as it snaps again. 

The camera lowers and Lucas looks at the pictures, Jens stares as his face, fully appreciating the freckles scattered across his skin like stars, the mole above his mouth, his lashes that spread like a fan. A curl falls, obstructing Jens’s view, and he has to hold back from reaching out and pushing it out of the way. 

“Look.” Lucas uncrosses his legs and uses them to push himself so he’s sitting next to Jens, whose heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. Lucas’s shoulder is touching Jens’s. Jens doesn’t move away. Lucas holds the camera up, showing Jens the first photos with the smoke covering his face. Jens takes the weed out of his mouth, holding it so the side so the smoke isn’t being blown into Lucas’s face.

“If I edit it so the focus is on you, like if I blur the background, it’ll look really cool, don’t you think?” Lucas looks up at Jens, who isn’t even really looking at the photo. 

“Yeah, for sure.” 

Lucas smiles and turns back to the camera. Jens holds the joint up in front of him, offering, and Lucas looks at it before leaning forward and taking it between his lips. Jens’s eyes widen and he pulls his hand away, letting Lucas hold it in his mouth (Oh my God oh my God oh my God) and then Lucas tilts his head up, his eyes still looking at the camera as he analyzes the other photos, and Jens reaches up, taking it, and scoffs lightly. 

“I had a history test this week,” he says, trying to ease his body temperature. 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” Lucas turns so he’s facing Jens, putting distance between them, and Jens’s side suddenly feels cold. 

“How do you think?”

Lucas makes a face, a comical grimace, and Jens laughs.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’m telling you, find a way to talk to me during your tests and I’ll help you if you help me with my math.”

“Talk to you as in texting or like telepathically?”

Lucas switches the camera off and leans back against the rough behind them.

“Telepathically would be dope.” 

“I’ll get on that.” 

Lucas laughs before, “Speaking of texting, why don’t I have your number yet?” 

“Because you haven’t asked?” Jens replies sassily, and yeah, they’re definitely flirting. 

“Well.” Lucas produces a phone from the side of the camera bag. “Better get on that.” He opens it, typing in a code, and passes it to Jens when he opens a new contact. 

Jens smiles as he types his name and number in before handing it back to him. Lucas sends him a text after a second, just a ?, and Jens sends one back. 

“Had to make sure it’s legit,” Lucas says.

“Why would I give you a fake number?”

“I don’t know, you don’t like me or something?” 

Jens furrows his brows at him.

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t let you take my picture.”

 “Touché.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Jens adds Lucas to his contacts (Lucas📷) before he asks, “What school do you go to? I haven’t seen you around except here.”

“I’m doing online.” 

“Ooo.” They both put their phones in their pockets. “How’s that going for you?” 

“Honestly I like it better. School is exhausting.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Especially people. It’s nice to have a break.”

“The people are exhausting?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Am I?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Oh-kay.”  Jens laughs and reaches out, pushing him, and Lucas giggles, grabbing Jens’s hand and pushes it away.

“If I fall off of this, I’m going to kill you.” 

Later, as the joint burns down between the two of them, Jens asks how online school worlds. Lucas tells him about the calendar he has online, how all of his assignments for the school year are already laid out in front of him. 

“It’s a lot less stressful, knowing every assignment that’s coming.” 

“Sounds nice. Sometimes I don’t know what assignments I have until a week after they’re due.” 

Lucas’s eyes squint when he laughs.

Eventually, Jens realises the sky has darkened, and he looks up to see the stars, which automatically make him think of Lucas’s freckles. And the fact that it’s much later than he feels like it is. 

“Shit.” He pulls out his phone, seeing a text from his mom, sent almost twenty minutes ago.

Where are you???

He types out a response as he swings his legs off the dumpster and jumps to the ground. 

Sorry, lost track of time. On my way home now.

“Oh, yeah, you have school tomorrow, don’t you?” Lucas asks as he hand’s Jens’s bag to him. 

“Ugh, yes.” 

“Sucks to be you.” 

Jens furrows his brow at him as he pulls the strap over his head. 

“Don’t you too?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t have to get up until like ten.” Lucas gives him a dry grin and jumps down, clutching the camera. Jens flips him off and he laughs. 

They part ways ar the sidewalk, going down opposite paths, and say goodbye by bumping their palms and fists together. Jens has to stuff his hand in his pocket after to stop it from shaking. Not even five minutes later, as he walks alone down an empty sidewalk, the sound of passing cars in the distance muffled by tall buildings, he receives a text message. 

I’ll see you next week?

He smiles before answering.

Of course. 

[queenwille]

a....fashion video?

lol the one circling around the tag about really chic belgian kids. i don’t have a link maybe someone has?

[3416]

im glad some ppl can find it in themselves to be optimistic but if you really expect everyone else to after wtfock have been tossing us abt when it comes to the main for weeks..... *robbe voice* think again...