Psychopath. (bwwm) ✓

35. epilouge.

so in light of the fact that over the years i've grown as an artist as a whole, this story... doesn't work for me anymore. until now, i have been avoiding ending it as it hasn't been easy for me to fall back in love with these characters let alone the trajectory this story took.

and recently, it was a puppy that i just adopted that gave me a new lease on life— or a leash. don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.

amidst the chaos of a worldwide panini press... and everyone around me acting as if that just simply does not matter.

well, i realized through Thor (a jack russell, chihuahua mix (odd, i know but his parents were in love, what can you do?)) and the aimless meandering i did before him— that we need to do things that we're scared of.

just to do them.

with less fear and less worry of failing. less anticipation of the end and what comes next.

and to be honest, i need that. maybe i've been scared of saying goodbye to my first hit story (no matter how long it's been) this one's to Thor (Theodore Benjamin Davis, thank you)

and all of you that actually cared to read an epilogue about 2.5 years late.

|35.| EPILOGUE

Rage sparked in gray eyes, an almost sterling silver, and Oliver Remmer let out a heavy grunt swinging the mallet forward with all his might. The clash was loud, booming through the tiny room and echoed out into the hallway. He swung the blunt object in his hands again, and again each collision harsher and sloppier than the last.

Pale skin stretched over taut biceps, exposed by a muscle shirt and when he'd gotten enough, he let out one last scream it almost painful, dropping the mallet onto the floor and tugging his goggles upwards to rest on a shaggy head of black hair.

The busted fridge sat against a graffitied wall, the dent where Oliver had unleashed deeper than the others and Emerson Riley bit back a smirk at the satisfied look on her boyfriend's face.

"Holy shit!" That was Elliot Remmer, his eyes blown wide.

Somewhere between a slightly manly squeal and a guttural laugh, he was bellowing over loud music. Head banging in time with the pulse, a sudden rush, he was barreling towards the damaged kitchenware, brushing his gloved fingers over the dent in the tagged fridge.

In seconds, that excitement had boiled over, the youngest brother reaching for the pile of discarded tools on the floor.  With all his might, he was spinning around a baseball bat, slamming it forward into a lamp and knocking it off the table with a grunt.

Behind thick goggles, he watched it shatter against a brick wall.

Oliver laughed, it heavy and boisterous, almost falling to his knees when his brother nearly slid to the floor at the exertion.

His face flushed, eyes screwed shut and he grabbed for his abdomen, Elliot Remmer ducking back from the mess and raging out to some shitty song.

"You look so fucking stupid." That was Sidney, the final of the four, leaning over onto her best friend's back.

Initially, they'd made plans to actually go on that double date - Oliver, Emerson and Elliot that is but when Jovie Nichols cancelled unexpectedly due some family thing that he was fully convinced didn't actually exist, the younger Remmer's tune had changed.

Instead of a nice -yet reasonably priced- dinner date that he'd finally scrounged up enough to pay for -not really, he was planning on getting the cheapest thing for himself and seeing how the night panned out.