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✿ OUTFIT | MUSIC | OOC |MOOD ↝ DROWSY ✿​

✖ LOCATION ↝ HOME ✖​

It was a familiar feeling. Heavy eyelids, shallow breathing, vision blurring in and out of focus as she gazed blankly at a part of her wall. Emptiness. Her body was sprawled over her bed with only her chest rising and falling indicating she wasn't completely motionless. She as wearing only her undergarments again, ripping off the black dress she wore earlier in disgust. That was officially her funeral dress and she hoped she never had to wear it again. She arrived home... sometime ago. She wasn't exactly certain on when. It honestly felt like a day ago, but time seemed to move so slowly lately, it probably hadn't been too long since she returned from the funeral.

At the depressing ritual, she was able to give her presents to Richie. She did it during the reception, while others were busy chatting away. She slipped over to the caskets, hopefully without being noticed, and did what she really, really didn't want to do. She looked.

She looked at his face and felt her heart stop beating. She swore she died for that short moment (quote her and she will deny). Tears immediately gathered in her eyes and already began to fall as the seconds passed while she looked at him. Her right hand was buried in her bag, clasping the presents for Richie. She looked away quickly. She couldn't take it. Her friend was smiling, his eyes were shut - but it didn't look at all peaceful to her. It wasn't the smile she remembered from her best friend. This was forced (well, in reality it really was). His green eyes were covered by his eyelids but even so, they looked as lifeless as they literally were. His body was so stiff - not at all what Richie was like when he slept in bed. This was just wrong. All of it. This wasn't the party celebrating the life of Richie Duvont. This wasn't the happy air that he had once talked about with her. This wasn't the way her best friend was. This wasn't the way he was going to be remembered by. It was all wrong.

She looked back again, sniffling as tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Her lip trembled and when she took a breath in, she shook. This was so wrong! She pulled out the presents in her bag and lay them down on Richie's chest, in all attempts to make his dead body in the casket look even the slightest bit right. She placed the stickers by his the side of his shoulder, pinning it to stand straight between the wall of the casket and the bag of macaroons she made for him. She placed the lookbook of his favourite male models by his arm, tucking in by the wall once more. This was a little less noticeable than the other. Lastly, she placed the photograph in his hands. His hands were stiff and she couldn't move them properly for a moment, letting a sob escape her, but eventually he clasped the photograph in his hand. She straightened up. She didn't really think about what she just did and it was probably really selfish and egotistical of her to do that but she did it. And she looked at him for one last time before she broke.

She walked briskly out of the room, ran out to her car and locked herself in there as she sobbed hysterically. She screamed out at her dead best friend, as rage and depression devoured her. Why did he leave her? Why did he have to die? This went on for what seemed like forever, but most likely wasn't, before she finally got back to breathing close to normally and drove back home (half of her still half-hoping she would die along the way).

Again, she did not die. Her phone buzzed next to her, and she sluggishly reached for it. A text from Ryder.

Message From: Ryder
Don't b wreck-less. U
need anything? Not
sure if I'm goin into
this party or not. U?​

She exhaled deeply, feeling her eyes grow even heavier. What was with him and not spelling correctly? Seriously, wreck-less? It irritated her a bit, but that feeling quickly disolved as drowsiness overpowered it. Guess the three sleeping pills she took were coming to effect. She began to type a response,

To: Ryder ​

Don't know what you're talking about.​

If you're going to the party pick me ​

up, I'll go if you go.​

The lack of smileys and odd diction would probably be unfamiliar to most but she didn't really have the energy for it. Going to a party would probably be nice, in a way. Sure, the sleeping pills causing her obvious drowsiness could be a problem but it was better than what she was doing now. She also kind of missed Ryder, in a way. She didn't really get it. Maybe it was just the pills and her drowsy mind making her feel that way. Oh, what if the party had drinks? That'd be a great way to just forget and go wreck-less. Yeah, that would be nice because wow, she just hated being home nowadays.[DOUBLEPOST=1372934433][/DOUBLEPOST]

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✌ CLOTHES≛ MOOD» UPSET/DISTANT ≛ TUNES≛ LOCATION » HOME/MARIA'S ≛OOC ✌​

He didn't really want to go to the party, not after the funeral. He arrived rather late, some people had already gone but he stayed for a while. Talked with some of the family members of those who passed, sent them his deepest apologizes and condolences, which was very difficult but it was polite and he felt like it had to be done. He stayed for a fair amount of time, before leaving and heading back home.

He arrived late because he spoke to his mother earlier that day, it was better. She was less worried - most probably because it was a family video call. His step father and little baby step brother were there too so he and his mother went back to square one: pseudo smiles and faux happiness. There was that air between the two of them that only they could notice. They both knew it was forced, but save for the sake of the holiday, they ignored it.

Sean also contacted him today, actually - for quite a number of times but he only responded to his text about his family inviting Tucker over for dinner. He politely excused himself, mentioning the funeral more of an excuse to not going, but also put in more truth that there was a party going on that he was going to. Sean replied with a simple text and Tucker sent an even simpler response terminating the conversation and went back to ignoring. It wasn't that he wanted to ignore his friend, hell, he felt absolutely terrible for doing that but he still couldn't stand knowing the look on his friend's face when he spoke to him. It was the I-look-at-you-like-a-charity-case face. He couldn't stand it.

Of course, the party mention in his text was more of an excuse too. Yeah there was one but when he sent that, Tucker was still not too bent on going. There was just that sulking air still clinging onto him, but this was Maria's party and she always seemed to be the perfect distraction. He didn't have to pretend with her, not anymore, and he always felt a little more chipper with her. Like, genuinely chipper.

Nothing to do at home other than sulking versus spending time with a very good friend. It seemed like such an easy battle with the obvious winner but he still hesitated. After a couple more minutes of consulting with himself, he got up from his bed. He tore off the plain black polo shirt he wore to the funeral and replaced it with another. He threw a jacket over that, changed into a less formal pair of shoes and proceeded to grabbing his phone, his car keys and locking the door of his apartment once he shut it behind him.

The drive to Maria's house was quiet, despite the New Year celebrations in the homes that he passed. Maybe the news about all these freak-deaths were scaring the people in town. He wouldn't blame them, honestly. He parked his car out in the street, and then walked up the short path to her home. He wondered how many people were already inside. He wasn't incredibly late, but still. He stepped up on the porch and knocked on the front door. He quickly stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets after. Things seemed a little colder.

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✿ OUTFIT | MUSIC | OOC |MOOD ↝ DO NOT CRY ✿​

✖ LOCATION ↝ FUNERAL HOME ✖​

The turquoise teen did NOT want to attend the funeral. She's been doing so well - at least, in the standards of that messed up head of hers - in keeping her tears from falling and not letting the pain in her system. This was going to tip the scale of sanity vs. insanity so drastically and she knew she wasn't going to be able to handle it. So why on earth was had she been outside of the room that held her best friend's body in a casket (in the cold for about an hour now, mind you)? Hell, she was making her way to said room now.

For one thing, her mother was still giving all attempts to feed her and running away seemed like a good option. She's also been asleep way too long now, she was already late for the funeral - and Richie would have probably already kicked her butt for that alone. Not going? Maybe he'd make her join the afterlife with him. Of course, this wasn't true - but it did give a little comfort thinking about what silly things Richie would say, but this hurt a lot too after a while. With nowhere else to run, she just decided to go. She knew she'd regret it if she didn't. She got dressed and grabbed the entire bottle of sleeping pills, her phone, some other things and car keys. She left home with out a word and drove to the funeral on her own - not caring, and actually liking the thought, of if her really awful driving skills would kill her on the way.

She didn't die. She parked badly and got out of the car. She was probably one of the first to arrive, she only caught a glimpse of Lucas as he entered the room. She was to follow in after him but she just couldn't and pretty much broke down internally from there. She stayed away from the door, locked up in her car for a moment. Seeing others arrive didn't help - seeing Ryder and his family was the worst.

Despite all that, here she was, with her hand over the door knob. She clutched the strap of the black bag she was using, knowing that the comfort of sleeping pills would be inside it. It could save her from all the madness and make her at peace. With one shaky breath, she finally entered.

"We will all miss each of them--Richie, Zach, Alex, and Seraphina. Even those that weren't that close to them are feeling it too. Watching what happened to them happen must have been devastating to those of you that were present. For those few..."

She could already feel her body shaking and her heart beating faster. She just had to enter as someone was giving a speech. No. No. Let the words become nothing but letters put together, audible by who was speaking. They were nothing. She just had to buzz them out and be there so Richie wouldn't kill her for not attending his funeral.

Another thing she ignored were the caskets ahead, she couldn't look at them. As well as Ryder and his sister and mother. She caught a glimpse of his blonde hair but couldn't look at their direction. She could still feel it all slowly build up inside of her and she wanted to bad to just terminate those inner demons. Her shaking hand dug into her bag, clutching the bottle of pills tightly. Maybe one could help her numb it out, but she was afraid she'd just pass out. She pressed her dark lips together and finally moved once more.

She carried her skinny limbs to one of the chairs, away from Ryder but closer to where Erik had sat. She didn't sit beside anyone though, she knew she wouldn't be able to find any words. She knew talking to anyone would probably put her back in that desperate state - which was probably a really high possibility of happening in a while. She could already feel her eyes watering as she stared down at her shoes quietly.

The back of her hand brushed across a piece of paper. she knew what it was. It was her favorite photograph of her and Richie. She wanted him to have it, but she couldn't even look at him. She'd have to look sometime though. Richie would kill her if she didn't. Say something like 'You're not even going to say hi to me at my funeral, sheesh, Elisa!' Plus, she had other things she wanted Richie to keep. Aside the photo, there were some cute stickers Richie would probably enjoy in the afterlife, a lookbook of one of Richie's favorite male models (she knew Richie would want a hit man beside him in his bed/casket), and a little bag of macaroons she cooked the other night. They were cute little kitten and puppy macaroons, not made just because her and Richie really enjoyed cooking things like these but mostly because she wanted Richie to get fat in the afterlife as karma for leaving her.


It was probably silly. All these presents for a dead guy, but she knew she wouldn't forgive herself if she wouldn't do it. Maybe she'll do it later - when everyone's gone. Besides, it was a more civil option than what Richie actually wanted in his funeral - which was a party to celebrate his happy, wonderful life and not to mourn his passing.

ooc: will format when I get home if I don't pass out gomen

He swore he would have totally ninja-rolled or karate kicked away when arms wrapped tightly around him if it weren't for the familiar voice that called for his name. Delicate arms wrapped around his waist as she buried her face into the back of his jacket and continued to speak.

❝ Don't-don't look s-so hurt... please. I just... I d-didn't want you to see... a-and Noëlle... w-we're going to see Julius. ❞

Not wanting to see? See her? What? That's all he wanted to do. He pulled his hands out from his pockets, placing them gently over her wrists. He didn't exactly get what she was saying other than it seemed like the person she was planning to meet was Noelle, and that they would go and visit Julius. He could feel her shaking body as she kind of leaned into him. She ran? She could have just called out to him! Then again, Tucker was lost in his own thoughts again and ignoring the soft buzzing from his phone (Sean was texting and calling like crazy), he probably wouldn't have noticed - just like he didn't hear her footsteps coming. She talked in between pants.

❝ I've never rode the bus before... will you-will you c-come with me...? ❞

He couldn't help but smile. That little glimmer was coming back, and things were maybe turning around. He slowly began to untangle her arms from himself, holding her wrists gently. He let go of them for a moment as he turned to face her, but held her again. He was kind of scared she was going to collapse or something. He smiled down at her, feeling everything bad joint he cold winter breeze, "You've never rode a bus?" he started with a little laugh. It was kind of silly how easy that moment kind of turned around for him and he couldn't quite explain it, but he couldn't help but finally put his cheeky little grin on. "Come on then, let's-"

His words were cut off as he noticed what he caught behind her sun glasses earlier. Bruises. It was unmistakable (Tucker would like to thank his height for being able to spot this more clearly). His eyes widened for a moment, his smile disappearing as his lips separated into a silent gasp. What happened to her?! Before a thousand theories entered his head, he remembered her shaky voice ❝I d-didn't want you to see... ❞ He closed his mouth, putting on a small smile. She did say she was fine right? Of course it worried him, and he wanted to know, but she looked so frazzled and tired as well - it probably wasn't nice to pry at a time like this. When she'd be ready, then she'd tell him right? He hoped it was soon, a frown tempted to replace his smile as he continued to notice the bruises.

"Let's go." he finally finished, looking at her blue eyes and ignoring the bruises by it. He stripped off his jacket, placing it over her shoulders. She just seemed so much colder than she should be. He wished he could do something more, probably getting to the bus soon was a good idea. She could sit and it would be much warmer. He placed a hand over her shoulder, as they began to walk in a steady pace, but stuffed that hand back into his pocket, pressing his bare arms closely to his warm body as he walked next to her.