no, i don't know;

[jared colton smith]

what do i do? man it gets so hard.
I DON'T KNOW. DON'T KNOW THE ANSWERS, THE QUESTIONS ARE.

Lying around in his pajamas hadn’t been the “main” option to spend his afternoon, but he was doing it anyhow. And, no, he hadn’t been to class at all even though it was a Tuesday and, technically speaking, still a school day. He didn’t want anything to do with it. It wasn’t as though he would have paid any attention to begin with. The pounding was still in his skull and even the Advil wasn’t doing too much for it. He had taken to drinking Nyquil instead. It seemed to work out a lot better and, as a bonus, he got sleep.

But there really wasn’t too much he could do in the dorm. He had settled for waiting until the whole place had been cleared out of his (two) roommates before doing anything at all. This “anything at all” consisted of some lucky charms and milk with a glass of orange juice. The mixture wasn’t too bad so he just left it at that. He wanted orange juice and that is what he had. Of course, it didn’t take too long to finish the whole thing up and that left him with basically nothing to do.

Therefore, he found himself sprawled across the couch, eyes on the television. He didn’t know just what in the hell he was watching but it really wasn’t all that entertaining. Click. Something else he couldn’t be bothered to watch. Click. Something by the name of… he-didn’t-fucking-care. Click. Spongebob Squarepants—and that is where it stayed. He soon learned it was something of a marathon and took the time to fetch a huge bowl and some popcorn. Well, it wasn’t so much a “bowl” as one of those huge-as-all-out-fuck pitchers. It wouldn’t be missed.

For a moment, Jared was aware that if he was still on good terms with Dallas, he would either a) be in class or b) watching this marathon with the older boy. It was almost enough for him to change the channel but he stuck it out. Decisions, decisions—that were his, really; but that’s a confusing thought process and it was easier to think about Spongebob and his completely retarded actions.

He could understand all of the other talking sea creatures (excluding Sally), really. But a talking sponge? What sort of stupidity was that? At least the others were living creatures and all that. Spongebob was a sponge and sponges don’t have brains or thinking processes and it didn’t really make much sense. Yeah, you could argue that talking sea creatures (once again, excluding Sandy) don’t make much sense, but it makes more sense than talking sponges. And this was really all just a clever ploy to stop thinking about Dallas and popcorn and marathons.

As a result, it didn’t take long for him to get bored with the Spongebob Squarepants marathon and so started the blood bath. Twenty minutes later and COD was on the screen with him leaning forward almost far enough to fall off the couch. Suffice to say, he was rather involved with his killing and maiming and, every once in a while, eating handfuls of popcorn. It was so much better than sitting in class listening to teachers drone on and on about something he could care less to hear about. It also beat the constant headache, which had turned into something like background noise.

Jared had more important things to listen to, like insanely loud gun shots.

tagged ⋅⋅ innocent bystander ?! (open)
words ⋅⋅ five seven four.
outfit ⋅⋅ youwantit.
lyrics ⋅⋅ i don't know the f-ups.
music ⋅⋅ i hate everyone get set go.
notes ⋅⋅ COD!

[dallas laertes finn]

I'LL BEG YOU NICE FROM MY KNEES,
and when the world treats you way to fairly, well, it's a shame i'm a dream.

"Oh I could hide 'neath the wings, of the bluebird as she sings. The six o'clock alarm would never ring. But six rings and I riiiissssseeee"

Dallas Laertes Finn was awake at six o'clock in the morning and up to no good. Well not really up to no good; unless you count the fact that he was in the middle of dorm one oh one bathroom and getting shaving foam everywhere and not caring? Oh, you do? Well good, it was just one of the many things that he was going to be doing to annoy his ex-boyfriend further and further until he flipped him over the edge. As if himself being 'insane' wasn't already enough, he was just doing trivial things to further prove it, and it was all Jared's fault, whether he wanted to believe that or not.

"Wipe the sleet out of my eyes, my shavin' razor's cold and it stiiiiingssssss!"

There was shaving foam everywhere. It covered the floor, the ceiling, the sink, the bath, the shower curtain and even himself - along with the toilet and the bathmat. His ex wasn't going to like this one bit, but Dallas had convinced himself that he shouldn't care, didn't want to care. He'd be gone before his evil Jared ever figured out that it was him that had covered his beloved bathroom in his beloved shaving foam.

The razor was clenched between his fingers, knuckles turning white from where he was holding it so tightly. Shaving his face to take away the morning stubble. Spencer had always said that she preferred his face when it was soft like a baby's bottom, so he was making this effort just for her, even though he knew that he wasn't going to see her today. Well, he wasn't going to make an effort to see her for the day; perhaps he was see her tonight instead.

"OHHHH, CHEER UP, SLEEPY JEAAAAN, OHHH WHAT CAN IT MEAAAAANN..."

Dallas finished shaving his face and washed off the remaining foam before strolling out of the bathroom as though nothing had ever happened and started on his way to his bedroom, where he quickly changed out of his shorts and t-shirt into a pair of jeans with a white button down shirt and a grey, mans cardigan sweater. He slipped his feet into a pair of lace up Vans and jammed a pair of white sunglasses on his head. Not his usual attire, but he wanted to go out and make a mess; cause some havoc and you know, the usual... so this way people wouldn't really recognise him as Dallas Finn; depressed sophomore.

Once dressed he bounced out of his dorm and made his way down the street. "To a daydream believerrrrrr, and a homecoming Queee-eaahhnnnnnnn." Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his skinny jeans, Dallas turned the corner and came face to face with a lot of traffic. Tilting his head slightly to one side, he noticed that his childhood friend; Ellis, seemed to be the one that was causing this monstrosity. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he made his way over to the older male and sat himself down rather obnoxiously in the empty chair on the opposite side of the fold-up table.

"You once thought of meee as a white knight on a steeeeeed." Without waiting for a merit invitation, Dallas picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup of tea into the empty cup. He had a feeling that Ellis wouldn't mind one bit; it seemed to Dallas that his friend was here to cause as much havoc as possible. Afterall; they were in front of the park and both of them were Sophomore's.

"Dear brother, are we up to no good?"

But Ellis didn't answer him, because Ellis wasn't really real; it was just a figment of Dallas' drunken mind as he stood in the middle of the road staring at nothing in particular and playing like he was pretending to be with a friend. And instead of nice men in white coats coming to take him away to the loony bin; Dallas was met with a strange looking police officer who frog marched him back to Eisley and pushed him inside dorm 101 -after finding out where he resided from the reception, because frankly; Dallas was no help.

He stumbled forwards.

He tripped forwards.

He fell flat on his face, painfully.

"FUCK!" He mumbled into the carpet.

WORD COUNT: OH NO! SEVEN ATE EIGHT NINE! what're gonna do!?
TAG: jared! o:
LYRICS: all i wanted by paramore.
OUTFIT: merr, idk.
MUSIC: little britain abroad.
NOTES: play nice! o.o

[jared colton smith]

what do i do? man it gets so hard.
I DON'T KNOW. DON'T KNOW THE ANSWERS, THE QUESTIONS ARE.

See, now, there are only so many ways you can kill a person on COD and Jared was running out of fun, new, creative ways. Well, not really new or all too creative, but he tried all the same. Because, really, there was people dying and who didn’t like to see that? It was a stress reliever of epic proportions and he was enjoying himself. And the popcorn, which had nearly been forgotten about almost six times now. A quarter of it was on the floor and couch, respectively. It hadn’t been his fault. He had gotten shot while reaching for some popcorn and, well, one thing led to another and his hand hit the bowl—unfortunately.

The controller was covered in the buttered and greasy-feeling remains of popcorn and that would need a cleaning. He was beginning to think it was time to watch some more television, or maybe a movie instead. There had to be movies lying around somewhere. It was possible there were some in the cabinet beneath the television but that would have to be found out later. But for now there was the matter of killing more people, saving the game, and cleaning both the controller and his hands. That sure felt like a lot of work to him. Just the walking and the cleaning and the returning of an almost forgotten headache because the video game really was drowning it out and this kind of sucked.

But he remained lazy for a couple more drawn out minutes, mashing buttons and stuffing popcorn in his mouth in-between shots. It made him feel like brushing his teeth. He never had particularly enjoyed popcorn. It made itself home in the crevices of his teeth and it was just so annoying to get rid of. And it made brushing teeth a chore, searching for the damnable pieces. Sure he could use floss but he never had liked that either and it was really all just a moot point and he should really get around to cleaning up a bit. After all, he was trying to make it seem like he had died off or something equally believable. That meant he couldn’t leave evidence lying about.

Fifteen more minutes and he finally dragged himself away from the controller and screen long enough to walk into the bathroom. And stare. There was just nothing that he could think of to describe the bathroom. Actually, that’s a lie. He believed it to look something like a wonderland of shaving cream. And why the fuck was there shaving cream everywhere? Instead of wondering which of his roommates was the culprit, he made his way to the sink (fucking shaving cream everywhere) and washed his hands. Then he found a wash cloth, wet that, and went back to the still popcorn-smothered controller and cleaned that too. The cloth found itself in a hamper in the bathroom and Jared almost couldn’t leave the bathroom again. Fucking white.

It was probably Dallas. He was almost willing to bet money that it was the older boy’s fault. It just seemed like something he would do to annoy the living hell out of Jared. Really, it did. And so, he attempted (key word) to ignore the whole mess. There was going to be a sign or something to greet Dallas when he got back that would proclaim that he must clean the bathroom. It was his mess, he was old enough to clean it up, and so he should. And Jared wouldn’t snap because that was horrible and didn’t he just have video game violence therapy?

This led to dragged feet and living room seating. Until he remembered that he was supposed to be turning off the game, putting it away, and finding a movie worth watching. This is how it came to be that Jared Colton Smith was sitting on the couch (a bottle of Advil and some soda on the table) watching Beauty and the Beast. Said movie had just reached the part where everyone started singing about Gaston when someone was shoved through the door. This was the cause of some jumping and a bewildered gaze in the direction of the door and then the floor in front of it.

The sophomore stiffened and nearly got up to go to his room. What the hell kind of timing did the other boy have? It seemed to be pretty miserable if he was going to show up while a Disney movie was playing and a certain person was sitting there. Instead he shuffled around a bit but didn’t make any move to help the other boy off the floor. He was betting said boy was drunk—again. He had caught a glance of a man before the door and swung shut and he looked suspiciously like a cop. There was probably something about disorderly conduct or something.

He turned his eyes back to the television and the movie, fingers twitching. The ache was a roaring sort of pain now and he found himself reaching for the bottle of Advil. And fuck, he was going to overdose one day. But at that moment it didn’t really seem to matter. So he let loose another pill and washed it down with the soda. The pain didn’t seem to recede all too much but he wasn’t stupid and so, he wouldn’t take another, not yet. And, still, Dallas was on the floor and he really should be helping him up if he wasn’t going to play pretend-sleep in the other room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” There was still popcorn on the floor.

tagged ⋅⋅ dallas laertes finn!
words ⋅⋅ nine three six.
outfit ⋅⋅ youwantit.
lyrics ⋅⋅ i don't know the f-ups.
music ⋅⋅ breaking the habit linkin park.
notes ⋅⋅ longer than i thought it would be. o:

[dallas laertes finn]

I'LL BEG YOU NICE FROM MY KNEES,
and when the world treats you way to fairly, well, it's a shame i'm a dream.

And what exactly was alcohol, and why was it in Dallas’ blood stream? Well, lets start at the beginning shall we? ‘Alcohol’ is more commonly known as ‘ethanol’ which was originally an organic compound. This is basically what happens when a hydroxyl function group binds itself to a carbon atom- thus creating various forms of acyclic alcohols; though it’s generally fused to ethanol. Which is the main compound in alcoholic beverages- which is probably what makes them taste so damn appealing. That and it’s ethane backbone? Well, it has to be fermented and distilled and other the other appropriate actions to turn it into drinkable alcohol. Denatured alcohol? Apparently.

To put it simply; if ethanol is methanol there will be a big boom.

But anyway; on to the next question! Alcohol is in Dallas’ blood stream because he likes it. Well, not really; but just lately he’d been too depressed to even care what went into his body and what comes out of his body. He’s drunk way too often and asleep for most of the day. His school grades are marginally disappointing for a boy of his intelligence measure- failing his classes, yes. He can hardly relax, he’s twitchy and nervous; he’s depressed and feels like the world is out to get him. Paranoid? Pretty much.

Though that still didn’t answer the question of why alcohol was in a sixteen year olds blood stream. So, if you really must know, you’re going to be sad. For Dallas Laertes Finn’s tale is not for the faint hearted. It all began with his secret boyfriend, and then it all ended with his secret boyfriend. That’s all you need to know really. Nothing much else I can tell you that you probably haven’t already figured out- the poor love sick puppy has been kicked and it’s really taking it’s toll on the poor puppy. Dallas needed Jared. Jared denied Dallas. Jared broke it off with Dallas; bam. Unhappy Dallas sunk into depression.

Alcoholism was probably not the best way to go about it, though alcohol intoxication was a hell of a lot nicer to him than being stone cold sober was. Dallas liked the physiological state that was inebriation. He liked having high levels of ethanol on his blood stream and he especially liked the feeling of flying high above the clouds as though he were a bird. Though Dallas thought that he could do without the slurred speech; his lack of co-ordination; his reduced inhibition; and impaired balance. All those, plus the erratic behaviours. Because honestly? He had absolutely no fucking idea as to why he decided to ‘paint’ the shared bathroom with Jared’s shaving foam.

It would have been different if it had been his own bathroom, but no. It had to be in the one that Jared shared with the other people. Dallas felt the need to piss off his ex-boyfriend why? Because he could, and it was better than some of the other ways to piss him off than his inebriated mind had explained. Oh yes, there was plenty of other ways in which Dallas’ mind had concocted for the sixteen year to partake in. Each one of them as dastardly as the next, and bold; and daring, and quite frankly astounding for him to even be thinking about.

Dallas the peacekeeper had turned into Dallas the troublemaker. He was stirring up trouble in Pleasantville and ain’t no-one gonna be asking him what the hell he was doing.

So, with that in mind, and the sudden urge to pee after face planting the soft carpet, Dallas pulled himself to his feet and started to stagger off in completely the wrong direction. He didn’t notice Jared until he spoke and even when he heard the younger male’s voice, he didn’t stop. Instead he just turned his head in his direction and stared in disbelief for a couple of seconds. Stopped walking. Stared in disbelief again. Pointed at the bathroom. Stared some more.

“Bathroom.. ‘kay. Bye.” Spoke those three words and staggered off into the bathroom. The wrong bathroom, mind. But a bathroom all the same. Except, that when Dallas got in there he tripped. He struggled to maintain his balance for a few seconds; slid across the floor (courtesy of the shaving foam) and landed headfirst in the bathtub with an ear piercing, mouth wincing thud, sickening, dull, dark, thud.

Momentarily stunned and uncertain of what the fuck had happened, Dallas Laertes Finn fell back out the bathtub and landed in a heap on the floor, and there he stayed for all of five seconds before straightening himself up- straight into the sink, and then face planting the taps to create a fountain of blood from his head; hitting the mirror with his fist and adding blood to the shaving foam masterpiece.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, Dallas moved slowly over to Jared; blood pouring down the side of his head. He lifted his hand to his head to apply weak pressure and used his other hand to point in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Oh.. Smart. Yep… need, a.. fuckin’… err, shit.”

And with that, Dallas collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Smart one, that Dallas.

WORD COUNT: eight seven one.
TAG: jared! o:
LYRICS: all i wanted by paramore.
OUTFIT: merr, idk.
MUSIC: nothing.
NOTES: i said play nice! xD

[jared colton smith]

what do i do? man it gets so hard.
I DON'T KNOW. DON'T KNOW THE ANSWERS, THE QUESTIONS ARE.

There were very few things he was definite of, but here they are. One, Dallas was drunk. Two, he was heading into the wrong bathroom. Three, well, he didn’t really know three. It was Dallas’s fault that there was shaving foam—his shaving foam at that—all over the floor and walls. He could deal with the damn thing. With that, Jared swore not to think of it anymore and focused on the television. It was, of course, more interesting to watch enchanted objects dance and sing on screen. An alcohol-infested Dallas? Well, damn, there was nothing interesting about that one! Not even the two second presence of a cop could make it interesting.

He decided to just stick to the popcorn and enchantments. Up until he heard a bang from his bathroom. Immediately he tore his eyes from the screen and glared in the direction of said room. That didn’t sound healthy but he wouldn’t be worried. Dallas probably just fell over again. If it was really that bad, there might have been some screaming. He didn’t really know but he didn’t want to assume anything and walk in there like an idiot. Wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring the other boy anyhow? Was he trying to make it harder? Actually, that question wasn’t even necessary. He probably was.

And that was all perfectly fine as long as Jared wasn’t affected by it. That thought was short-lived. The sound of glass shattering did affect him and he nearly jumped a foot off the couch. This time he wasn’t so much glaring at the bathroom as staring at it in bewilderment. Said bewilderment increased when his once-upon-a-time boyfriend stumbled out of the bathroom. No words could describe his feelings because they simply weren’t there. His mind was a blank slate without even a word in the vicinity. It was probably all the blood. Head wounds bleed a lot, he knew that, but it made his chest ache. The collapse is what snapped him out of it.

Then everything seemed to fall into overdrive and he had jumped off the couch, almost tripped over the table (stubbed his toe instead), and dropped to his knees beside Dallas. A Dallas that wasn’t moving and the ache grew a little bit stronger.

Thoughts a tangled mess and breathing shallowly, he pushed Dallas onto his back and frowned when he focused on the blood. He couldn’t just let it bleed. Wasn’t there something about bleeding wounds and pressure and all that? He pulled at his hair, distracted. Should he call for an ambulance or something? And fuck, the head wound. There was so much blood. He scrambled off the floor and into the messy bathroom, now a mixture of shaving foam and blood, neither of which he wanted to think about. The mirror was completely ignored. Instead he immediately went for the cabinet near the toilet and fished out a wash cloth and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Had to clean it, right?

More scrambling came about and he was back in the other room with his easily obtained objects. There was some minor wincing at the thought of applying alcohol (fucking stings) and he still wasn’t so sure that Dallas had really passed out. That would mean something bad, right? Or maybe it was just the liquor finally getting to him and was Jared really thinking about that now? He took a breath, dumped some alcohol on the cloth, and pressed it to Dallas’s head. He was going to die of a heart attack one day, he was sure, and it would all be this boy’s fault. There was just no other way he could die; seriously.

And dammit, he needed bandages or something. Off to the tainted bathroom again and more searching provided him with colorful band-aids. They weren’t nearly large enough for what he wanted to use them for but he didn’t have much of a choice. Not unless he wanted to wrap a bandana around the other boy’s head and he didn’t feel like he had enough time to be searching for one right then. He speed walked back into the other room and dropped beside Dallas again and, fuck, why blood?

This is how it came to be that Dallas’s forehead was partially covered in a line of colorful band-aids. But that was covered with a damp cloth and Jared had fetched a larger than needed blanket and tossed it over him. And instead of returning to the couch and popcorn to watch the movie, which had gone on without him, he brought the popcorn with and watched the television from there. After restarting the movie and shifting a couple of things around to provide a perfect view. He didn’t really watch it.

There was some thought given to just leaving Dallas on the floor but it bothered him too much and he ended up staying seated. He wasn’t supposed to be caring or showing any sort of care. He was supposed to ignore and stick by his resolve not to have anything to do with Finn. But this was unsettling. Jared wanted to blame the alcohol, he really did, but he knew the alcohol was his fault and, by extension, this was his fault too. He should have cleaned the bathroom earlier. He should have taken care of all of this differently, maybe. And ignoring or not, the older boy had once been his boyfriend and he still cared and fuck.

Singing and talking people on the movie were more like background noise than anything else. He was barely focusing on it. His thoughts were more consuming than it could ever be and he nearly started petting Dallas’s hair, just to assure himself that the other boy was still there and fine. That urge nearly had him going for the Advil. The headache was back full force and that ache wouldn’t dissipate. Fucking Dallas.

tagged ⋅⋅ dallas laertes finn!
words ⋅⋅ nine eight six.
outfit ⋅⋅ youwantit.
lyrics ⋅⋅ i don't know the f-ups.
music ⋅⋅ so cold breaking benjamin.
notes ⋅⋅ jared... had a moment.
/doesn't really know what happened up there/
COLORFUL BAND-AIDS.