UPRISE

011

As light begins to cascade into his window, Wren squeezes his eyes tighter. His fist tightens around the sheets, and he rolls over, hoping to feel Pluto's warm skin against his back.

Then, he realizes that he is alone in bed.

He pulls himself out of the soft sheets. The pounding in his head is familiar, and though it is annoying, it is welcome. It's difficult to see, so he is only able to find his pants. With them on, he walks into the hallway.

"Holy moly," Reagan stumbles as the door across him slams open, his foot gets caught in the used-sheets he carries. As he trips and falls, Wren catches him and steadies him. Reagan's face lands inches from Wren's bare chest. If he was feeling clumsy before, he is basically lost now. "Sorry, I was just trying to, umm, how was your night?"

Wren looks down. His night was a blur, one with the threat of alcohol on his lips, along with the taste of another, more mysterious, danger. "It was... eventful."

"Can I... can I maybe talk to you?" Reagan attempts to flip the hair out of his eyes. When he is unsuccessful, he tries to blow the hair out of his eyes.

"Of course," Wren stares at Reagan. Three of his freckles are more prominent, in an almost diagonal line. It points up or down, depending on who you are. Wren decides that Reagan must think up, while he thinks down. It doesn't occur to him that Reagan doesn't notice the starlight in his own skin.

"In private?" Reagan asks.

Then, Wren nods. He holds the door open for Reagan behind him. He drops the sheets in the doorway, staring into the messy room. Clothes have been thrown about, some of them Wren's. Light peeks in through the blinds, slicing Wren as he walks in front of Reagan.

"What's up?" Wren sits on the bed and hopes Reagan doesn't join him. After all, the sheets are used. As Reagan moves closer, Wren pulls them off the mattress.

"I... I saw something last night," Reagan coughs. He can feel himself choking. "You seem like you've been to a lot of parties."

"What was it?" Wren leans forward, staring up at Reagan. He hates this position, mostly because he feels like he is eye-level with Reagan's crotch. Actually, now Wren can't stop thinking about it. He bites his lip trying to focus on Reagan's words.

"Viola's using drugs."

The words suck Wren back into a dark hole. One where he can hear his heartbeat through a monitor, with the sting of his parent's eyes on his skin.

"I'll talk to her about it."

~~~

After sneaking out of the room early, Pluto went searching for her cigarettes. After a long search, she has finally found them. Rather than incur Marc's wrath, she decides to smoke on the patio.

There, she sees Corbin. In the same spot as last night. Pluto isn't sure if he left at all, actually. So, Pluto heads over, offering the smallest of waves to Rinn and Noah.

"You still sulking?" Pluto asks, as she shuts the door behind her.

Corbin won't look at her. He'd rather look down at the ground, even though heights strike fear into him, deeper than most things. Too many mundane things make his heart quiver, but he is better than letting it show.

Pluto reaches into the pocket of her pants and pulls out a flask. She offers it to Corbin. His hands hover over it for a second, before he finally takes it. He chugs back what little alcohol is left in there, unaware that it's for Pluto's emergencies.