𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ∽ 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

𝐓𝐄𝐍

｡･:*˚:✧｡
▏ INVISIBLE STRING ▕ 
➫ ———— act one. gold rush
CHAPTER TEN ─── moments littered in between
to listen to ➺ someone to you by banners

i was happy three days ago. today I'm depressed. what happened? nothing. an inner crutch slipped. some poorly suppressed memory rose to the surface.

— mihail sebastian, for two thousand years

☼

JOSIE SPRAWLED HERSELF ACROSS THE BENCH OF THE TWNKIE AS SHE POURED HER FEELINGS INTO HER JOURNAL. She found her mood slightly lifted as she put her honest thoughts into physical form, but not nearly enough to make her feel normal. The pain of her morning lingered with a brick-like ache that weighed heavily on her bones.

Her heart rate slowly calmed, having skyrocketed from her urgency to avoid being caught. And as the group discussed what the next step of the plan was, she grew entertained by Pope's pouting.

He sat with his arms crossed and an exasperated glare, insistent that what they'd planned was a horrible idea. Josie's feet laid across his, which he'd propped up on the back seat, and she shook them teasingly.

JJ sat on the floor of the Twinkie, slightly biting his tongue in absolute focus as he prepped a joint. Josie peeked at him from the corner of her eye, and she couldn't hide the smile that grazed her face at the sheer concentration that painted his expression.

"Pope, we're not stealing the drone. We're...borrowing it," John B assured from behind the boy. Josie shrugged, agreeing that their brunette friend had a point.

It was eighty-million dollars each, after all. They could afford to execute a little grab-and-go.

"Humans are the only animals that can't tell fantasy from reality," Pope quoted. Josie's brows furrowed as she tried to surmise where he might've heard it from. It seemed vaguely familiar.

"Wait, did you come up with that?" John B questioned, and Josie snorted in amusement.

"No, Albert Berstein came up with that, but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing," Pope smartly critiqued.

John B was silent for a moment. "Oh," he muttered.

Josie clicked her fingers conclusively, pointing at Pope in an aha fashion as she sat up in her seat. "Psychologist! That's why I didn't know who the hell you were quoting." She leaned back and buzzed with pride at her deduction. Albert Berstein had been the author of a book her mom had hounded her to read a while back.

Something about comparing people to vampires—Josie never did read it.

Pope shot her an amused glance, brow cocked, and she smugly nodded her head back at him. He then turned back to address John B in the driver's seat. "So, which is it?" He held out his hands to mimic a scale. "Fantasy or reality?"