[size10 [b He] was nothing but trouble, a boy brewing with anger at the world. his life was spent bouncing from different juvie centers, to jail, and barely escaping prison. now after finishing an 8 month stint, he's back in town and [i trying] to make good on his promise he was done with crime.
[b She] left the old town of Utica as soon as she graduated from highschool, tired of having to take care of her 3 siblings while her mom barely managed to balance 3 jobs. Now that he mom is sick, she's decided to come back and help her siblings who resented the girl who thought she was much bigger than the town.
[b Two] old old friends, that split that summer before highschool, now both in the same town. They swore never to talk about what happened that summer. Him beating Nelson up so bad the boy ended up in a wheelchair. Now facing each other, can they manage to escape the feelings they once held?]
-so, yeah it's a pretty loose plot. we can brainstorm a little on small details from their past just refrain from obviously godmodding
-doesnt matter how much you write, just give me [i something] to work with and please dont write more than you have to, i get [s bored] easily
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A year, that was tough. Of course he hadn’t seen the woman’s mother since he was in jail, but he remembered his mother’s illness, the way she seemed to grow thinner and thinner like she would be swallowed whole by the sheets of the bed she was in. He hated seeing her that way, his behavior at that time expressed more so in anger and that’s when his actions became violent, he started going a bit wild and while his father hoped it was a phase, Daxton had not grown out of the actions and of course only led him into further trouble.
“Glad to hear some things haven’t changed,” he said to the girl with a smile. It had hurt him to know that Simone had left, but he couldn’t blame the girl. This was a very old fashion town, there was no way to properly grow somewhere with very little opportunities. He’d hoped whatever Simone had left for made her happy and that after a year and many years to come it would still be there.
“Hey,” he said with a look at her as he was stopping at the light. “Stop beating yourself up yeah?” He chuckled a little then, “I’m a handsome strong man, I can handle a little heartbreak,” he said with a playful tone. The thunder was loud then, the rain coming in soon. Daxton didn’t mind the rain, didn’t mind anything about the [I outside]. He had been cooped up for so long, barely let out for an hour each day to experience the world. Now it was there, his whole life in front of him, a life of maybe redeeming himself.
“Of course he probably does, you know the old man can’t hold his liquor.” Daxton was thinking of a time in which the man had gotten a bit too drunk at a Christmas party the two families held together. They were a close community after all. His dad, drunk off eggnog, singing carols and nearly falling into the tree. It had seemed like something cheerful, a happy drunk of the holidays. Only Daxton knew and his mother, who sipped carefully at her own drink in the corner, could reason his actions. That’s the year they found out the tumor was malignant, how very little time they had with his mother.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Daxton then cleared his throat, trying to push back the tears. “So, of course we can stop for the good stuff.” He’d parked at a liquor store that was on the way to the pizza place.
“You know, Simone – if you need help with your mom, I can – you don’t have to do it alone is what I’m saying.” Daxton reached for her hand.
Simone followed him out the door with a small laugh, she wouldn't have minded a little trouble, it definitely would have made up for the long nights studying to herself instead of partying with her roommate. "I don't mind." She said though she considered scolding him about it, like she used to when they were kids.
She pulled her phone out, three missed calls and ten text messages from her mother asking what happened to her. With a sigh she shot back a series of texts.
-All fine mom.
-Caught up with Dax, and got talking.
-Be home a little later.
"Pepperoni forever, everything else on a pizza is just noise. No city could change that." Simone said with a smile. She felt a blush creep up on her cheeks when he complimented her. "Thanks," She didn't want to read too much into it, he probably wasn't interested in her that way, he never had been. It was easier to just smile and let it roll off her shoulders.
Simone rested her head on the window looking outside, it looked like it was going to rain overnight, if she was still going to be staying in her attic bedroom then she would get to enjoy the soft pitterpatter on the roof; something she loved to listen to as a teenager, and even now as an adult.
She lifted her head slightly and looked over at him, "The plan was for a year to help mom with her chemo treatments, but if she doesn't get better then I'll be staying longer.." She frowned, "I'm really sorry I took off on you like that Dax, will you ever forgive me?" She asked softly.
Thunder cracked across the sky and she jumped letting out a yelp, not expecting the noise, "Damn thunder." She grumbled. "It sounds like God thinks you shouldn't forgive me." Simone halfheartedly joked.
Simone didn't really believe in god, but she wasn't above making jokes when it came to the universe's ironic timing.
"Does your dad still buy those shitty lemonade coolers? Or do you want to stop and get a few to drink with our pizza?" She asked watching as a few droplets of rain hit the windshield.
Cancer. Daxton’s hands rubbed at his neck where his mother’s name was tattooed. Funny, in a cruel way, how this was one more thing the two old friends had in common. He distracted himself then, thinking about the comment she made about her ex, if you considered him that with how short their dating period had been.
“Yeah you wouldn’t be bored,” he said finally. “You’d be in trouble.” Daxton gave the female a cocky grin, now fully standing and ready to take Simone up on her offer to grab something to eat. Daxton tried not. “Pizza sounds good. I bet Gio’s is still open.” He’d waved over a goodbye toward Simone. He’d held the door open for her, the air cool and crisp contrast from how warm it had been inside.
“Mind if I smoke?” He inquired, already lighting the stick and unlocking his car. He’d the same one since highschool, gifted to him from his father after the both of them had worked on the car. He’d opened the door of the driver’s side, turning the music down. Gio’s was a popular pizzeria. The two of them had often gone there after school to eat a whole pie to themselves while complaining about school and life, basic teenage stuff.
“You still a pepperoni girl or did the city change you? Obviously for the better – I mean, you look good.” Daxton’s cheeks burned red, despite how bad boy demeanor, Simone saw the nice side of him. He ditched the smoke out the window of his car, ready to head toward the restaurant. Had he ever considered relationship with Simone? No, but the more he glanced at the female, he couldn’t deny his attraction for her. She was more mature, something otherworldly about her and to be honest, the first woman his age he had seen since his release.
“You have any clue on how long you’re staying? Would hate for you to leave without a proper goodbye.”
"Thanks, she is strong. I'm sure when my mom was diagnosed she told the doctor she was going to kick cancer's ass. You know my mom." Simone said trying to make light of it, so that the daunting fear of losing her wouldn't creep through. She looked at her watch, it was closing in on nine o'clock. But it was still too soon for her to want to head her house. Daxon was right though, she would never be able to out drink him, but she didn't say anything about that.
Instead she focused on his surprised comment about her boyfriend. "Well Ethan was an art student, and at first it was sweet that he would give me drawings. But he never wanted to go out anywhere. He was kinda boring honestly. So I ended things.. ya'know?" She said standing up. "If you were there with me it wouldn't be so boring. We would take over New York in a week." Simone said with a small laugh.
However, the guilty feeling crept back up when he said she wanted to get away. "I did... not from you though.. you were the only good thing going on in this place. Probably still are." She admitted to him. To be honest, if she went to him and he asked her to stay, Simone would have never been able to leave. She knew that. She could never say no to him when looked at her with that sad look. Even if they would never be together, she would do anything for him.
Simone placed her hand on her luggage, not ready to leave, not ready for the conversation to be over. She was sure her mom would understand if she stayed out a little later to catch up with an old friend, so she dared to ask, "Well... I'm kinda hungry. If you aren't busy, we could get a pizza, and sit in your basement like old times?"
“Simone the coward?” Daxton shook his head at the female. “I never knew you to have fear. Isn’t that why you got into journalism?” His jokes were in defense, an attempt not to think of his own mother who had died from cancer years ago, shortly after Sophie had left. He swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry about your mom. She’s a strong woman though, she’ll pull through. And there’s no way you can out drink me, so I suspect you’ll be heading home soon. Besides, it’s late – I didn’t even see your lights on,” he commented about the woman’s home. Daxton let the glass sit on the counter, turning to face Sophie now who was trying to hide the blush on her cheeks whether from the liquor or from the drinking. “Only three weeks?” He found it hard to believe anyone wouldn’t want to spend a lifetime with Sophie. She was beautiful, determined, and smart. He still had feelings for the woman, but that was their past and Sophie seemed to be doing well – he wasn’t good enough for her, a bad sport that would drown her if he hung around too long. “New York?” He let his head fall back some in laughter, clearly a bit tipsy. He asked Mike for a water, knowing driving drunk would not prove to be a good idea seeing how he had just got out of jail. “I don’t think New York could handle me.” He sipped at the new glass before him, ice cold water that already seemed to clear his mind. He placed the sweating glass back onto the bar top. His tongue rolled against the inside of his cheek. “’s fine,” he said with a shrug. He had missed her though, she was the first one he wanted to talk to when his mom had been diagnosed. She was the only face he searched for in the sea of those that had attended the funeral. She had been there for him after the backlash of his attack on Nelson, a guy who had go too handsy with Sophie and had he not been there to stop him, would’ve done a lot worse. “Hey, you wanted to get away,” he said, ignoring the tinge of pain that gripped his heart, made his chest tight. He tried to wash it down with the remainder of his drink and then the water soon to follow. “Nothing worth staying here for that bad huh?” He didn’t want to scare the female away though. He was happy to see a familiar face, seeing how he didn’t have that many good friends in the city. There were some who saw him as nothing but a troublemaking kid, a thief, an addict – anything but decent that was sure. It was interesting though, how he hadn’t bothered to make a move on the female despite how close they were and the many times they hung out together. At that time, he let more like a guard for her, a protector and he didn’t want anything to ruin that or get in the way – including a relationship. Especially considering his relationships never worked out for the best.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off the female though and Daxton knew with another drink it could go real good or real bad. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the few bills he had to cover his and Sophie’s drinks. He’d be working with his father so money would come, but it sure as hell would come slowly. In the past money came easily, Daxton worked as a not so nice enforcer for a tough group of people. They were all spending time in jail now though.
“You need a ride?” He asked her, much the same in no rush to get home. [I Home], he thought – it hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
Simone smiled a little sheepishly when called out on her prying. She listened to him as he spoke and took another drink, "Yeah well I guess I got so good at prying I decided to make a career out of it. I've been away at college for journalism." She responded with a small shrug. "As for what brings me back...my mother is sick and needs some help. So I took time off to look after her and my siblings. I haven't really gotten the courage to go home yet."
Simone felt a little bad, she had left abruptly after a fight with her mom, and didn't say goodbye to him, and but the time she had realized it, she felt so guilty about abandoning her friend that she never reached out, afraid of what he might say. Chewing her lip she looked at him, when he asked about partners, "Well.. No not really. I mean I had one boyfriend in college, but it was only three weeks. It doesn't count." Simone didn't know why she felt so awkward talking about her ex. Maybe it was because of her residual crush on him that made it so uncomfortable.
"You would like New York you know.. its much more lively than Utica." She said softly as she sipped away. "I missed you a lot when I was there, but I didn't know what to say if I called you... then Mom emailed me that your dad told her you got put away. I'm sorry I didn't reach out Dax." Simon looked into her drink as the guilt pooled into her stomach.
It had been a long time, and Simone wondered if he was angry at her for leaving, if he would shun her too like her siblings do. She wouldn't blame him, they used to be bound at the hip until she took off without a word. Even in high school though they were part of different crowds, they didn't stray very far from each other.
He used to take to school and always made sure she had a ride home. After school they would spend hours in his basement playing video games, eating pizza, and picking on each other. When they were old enough to drink and party, Daxon would bring her along so she wouldn't feel left out. Sometimes it was hard to be with him at parties because of the girls he would kiss there. Now here he was all grown up, better looking than ever, and still kind enough to talk to her.
It took some time before Daxton could recall the female he had went to highschool with, hell a really good friend of his especially seeing how she had lived across the street from him.
“I see you’re still not shy to prying,” Daxton said with a smirk as she had mentioned his being in jail. She had been gone for so long, how did she know he had went away? Maybe his father had been talking to her mother about his struggles with the male and admittedly he was not one who was a stranger to getting in trouble, jail was inevitable.
Gripping the glass in his hand, he looked over the old friend. She definitely had grown, and despite the time, she was as beautiful as he remembered. “I admit I was caught in a bit of a mess, but I am a free man now What about you? Where did you run off to? What brings you back?” Daxton indicated for Mike to get him another drink, he could already felt the effects of the liquor as it had been a while since the male had a proper drink. Daxton sighed out, this being something different for him. He was a bit antsy even with the amount of people being in the bar. There was a difference between the outside and the inside. The man didn’t even feel comfortable in his own home where he knew his father maybe didn’t even want him to reside, their relationship being strained as it was. Happy to see a refilled glass, Daxton took another sip.
“Any new men in your life?” He asked her finally, the small but of jealousy evident in him. He was always a bit overprotective of Simone, his love for her had never truly left and he was hurt when she had left the town without even a goodbye. Daxton finally turned then, to look at her closely wondering what had drawn the woman back home and what could that mean for them If she had decided to stay.
Simon was happily chatting up Mike as she sipped at her cocktail, this place was such an escape from the stress that she would soon be dealing with. [b "Yeah I went to New York for journalism, I should be on my internship this year but mom needed me, so I have to post pone."] She said as she finished her drink.
Mike nodded, "I heard about your mom, I'm sorry that's going on." He sympathized as he made her a new drink. "When you were away in college did you finally get a boyfriend?" He asked trying to lighten the mood.
Simone blushed feeling embarrassed, [b "I did, but it didn't last very long. He was kind of boring and didn't want to do anything, so I ended things."]
Their conversation got cut off when Mike recognized the next person that walked into the bar. Simone looked over to see the very tall and muscular man; he had tattoos, and swagger, and something she recognized but not quite sure what it was.
He asked to sit beside her and she nodded with a shrug, she didn't mind, besides he was good looking enough that when she had a few drinks she might even consider flirting with him. That was until Mike piped in again with disbelief, "Oh, don't tell me you don't know who this is?"
Simone lifted her head more to get a better look at him when she heard him utter her name, it took her more than a moment to figure out who she was looking at, while he seemed to be looking at her, [b "Daxon?"] She asked curiously.
Daxon had been her high school crush and best friend; they lived across the street from each other so spending time was not an issue. Not to mention, even before the muscle and tattoos, Daxon was hot, and probably knew it too. [b "Its been a long time. I heard you went to jail."] Simone said in almost disbelief. [b "Did you just get out?] She asked curiously.
Daxton and his father shared a lot of the same facial features. His father had aged well, a handsome man hazel eyes that shined like honey. His hair was thick and greying, slicked back in the same style he'd worn for years. He could pass for a bit younger, but the fine lines at the corner of his eyes told his age. Thick calloused hands from days of working at the auto shop gripped the leather steering wheel.
"You getting in?" The man suggested, a mumble almost. He didn't sound happy or upset, there was no emotion in his voice if anything. That was their relationship, strained and confusing - no brightness, just a thin line of connection. He hadn't realized he'd been standing there that long, finally lugging the door open. It creaked, and he felt the car sink some when inside.
"Thanks." He quickly averted his eyes, staring out the window as the man drove off. It was a silent ride for the most part, music playing to fill up space. His dad still favored country music. They used to fight about that. They fought about everything damn near. He was trouble. His father hated constantly having to pick him up from the Principal's office, all those late night phone calls to bail him out of jail - having to get him a lawyer. For most part he had to deal with Daxton's problems just as much. He shuddered at the memory of summer. That'd put him in some hot shit.
He was glad to hear that they'd moved, make his dad's life somewhat easier. The music had been turned down now and he realized his father was talking to him. He listened with half an ear; he was going on about rules. He'd be working with his father at the shop 'no living for free'. He had a curfew, in by 11.
"11?" he challenged, his voice louder than before, but left it at that just by the look his father gave him. No fighting, keeping his hands out of people's pockets, and partying was an absolute no. While he didn't like it, Daxton knew this is what he'd have to deal with until he'd made enough to leave. He was on probation though, it'd be a while before he could even surpass past his town. Permission. Everything required permission.
Eventually they pulled up the road that led to his family home. If anything, his dad made sure to maintain it. It was beautiful, two story home with rich brown paneling. The grass healthy and green and the street from his childhood still stood tall, the tire swing sturdily hanging from a thick branch. The two got out of the car and began toward the house before heading inside.
"Here," his dad mentioned, shoving a pair of keys into his hand. One of them looked familiar.
"I can't drive you around like a chauffeur," he grumbled. "House key and your car's in the garage.
"Dad," Daxton started, "Thanks." His father had already started up the stairs, already trying to get away from him before stopping and looking over his shoulder.
"Don't mention it." Gripping his keys tight Daxton looked around the house. The wood floors clean and polished and family photos hanging on the walls. He heaved a sigh, he needed a drink.
Walking out the door, he made sure to lock up. He looked up at the sky, in between a purple and orange. It was cooler now, not as hot as earlier. It was a long ride from the prison into town. He figured Mike's bar was still open. It was a staple in town. Heading toward the garage he pulled up the door. He could already see the outline of the black Camaro underneath the grey tarp. A proud car man, he doubted his father didn't make sure it stayed in prime condition. He'd even patched up the holes from the bullets shot at him. He hopped in the front seat, running his hand over the steering wheel. A smile stretched across his face, now this felt good. The air inside was a bit stale, but he got used to it. After toying with the radio some, he eventually landed on a rock station and pulled out.
The bar was easy enough to find, Daxton had no trouble navigating the streets of Utica. He'd parked on the street, running his hands over his arms. It was a little chilly, but a shot or two would warm him up. Music and conversation spilled from the inside. He followed the noise, into the dim lit bar filled with locals, some he could recognize immediately.
"Well I'll be, son of a bitch!" He'd heard Mike's loud voice bellow. Strutting over Daxton gave the man a smirk, pushing his hair back before giving him a solid handshake. Daxton was nowhere near as strong as Mike, his arms were well toned though, thin underlying of muscle and his shoulders broad. He'd never lost in a fight, anger only making him stronger.
"Mike," he chuckled out. "How you been?"
"Good good, how's life on the outside?"
"Never better, can't think of going back." Daxton mentally shuddered at that thought.
"Yeah I bet. I got new windows too, so don't you even think about getting into anything."
"What'll you have, on me - a little welcome home drink" He knew he'd have to run up a tab, seeing how he only had that twenty-three dollars to his name. He'd have to see what he still had in the bank.
"Double shot of Jameson." His eyes scoured over the familiar bar, landing on the clock. It was a little after seven. [i Elven o'clock]. Mike placed down the glass of amber brown liquid. His first drink in months. He looked at the girl next to him, she looked familiar. "Anyone sitting here?" He motioned toward the stool next to her. Thinking he saw a shake of hair he took the seat and greedily tossed the drink back. He coughed some, the burn intense as the liquid coursed through.
"Oh, don't tell me you don't know who this is?" Mike mentioned, raising his brow with a smirk. Just another look was all it took. "Simone?" Daxton inquired. She'd grown up, definitely not the sweet seventeen girl he knew. She'd lived just across the street from him. He knew with the tattoos and long hair he definitely didn't resemble his younger self. "Wow," was all he could say staring at her. What'd come of her?
Daxton impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter, watching through thick black bars as the short heavy-set woman rifled for his belongings. He sighed in relief, the last time he would see bars like this if he could help it. His time at the Utica prison was, well it was shit. It did him good to play the good guy or else he would've had to complete his full two year sentence.
"Emery," the officer barked. His eyes lifted from the chipped grey counter. Dark brown eyes looked briefly over a nametag that read 'Jefferson' before meeting her gaze.
"Twenty-three dollars in cash, brown leather wallet, gold chain . . ." He willed the woman to read his belongings off quicker, was satisfied when he lazily scribbled his signature on the form, tugging the bag through the thin slit. "Restroom to your right, when you're finished we'll buzz you through. Got it?"
"Got it," he'd mumbled under his breath. With his free hand he pushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, wincing at the bright white lights that shined against the too white sink and floors. The inmates' bathrooms didn't look like this. "Damn," he whispered, a small smirk tugging at his lips as Daxton found his reflection in the mirror. It'd been a while since he saw himself in a mirror, only catching sight of himself briefly when he'd gone to the infirmary. His first few months here weren't exactly. . . confrontation free. He almost didn't recognize the man in the mirror, now twenty-six as of two months ago, his hair hung awkwardly in his face, still short on the sides from a recent cut but the front way too long. He'd shoved calloused hands through the stringy mess, willing it to stay put.
"You okay in there?" The familiar voice through the door brought him back to reality. Right, a minute ago he couldn't wait to get the hell out of here, why was he stalling in front of a mirror?
"Uh - uh yeah, 'm almost through." Daxton cleared his voice, even the slow southern drawl in his voice sounded foreign outside those concrete walls. Daxton began to strip, his body riddled with tattoos, most he'd gotten from nights of binge drinking and partying at night. He'd only one that mattered, his mother's name swopping against the side of his neck. Cancer. What a bitch. His white shirt he'd been wearing when he was booked smelled a bit stale, but nonetheless it was clean. Removing the rest of the jumpsuit, he shrugged on a pair of black jeans, disappointed he'd lost some weight as they barely held on to his hips. Stuffing his feet into a pair of ratty of black Converse, he shoved the contents from the plastic bag into his pockets, took a deep breath and walked out. Finally, a free man.
[center [b _]]
He'd been standing outside in the hot sun for nearly an hour when he'd heard a rattling coming from across the parking lot. Thick clouds of smelly smoke trailed behind the beat up rusted blue pickup truck. It'd been months since he saw his dad, the man who had made fewer trips to visit him. He'd only recently started answering his calls; that was the term of his release. He had to live with his father, a man he hated, was now once again responsible for Daxton.
Heaving a sigh, he watched as the truck came to a stop. Here to being kind of a [i free] man.
[center [b _]]
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