Laugh or cry time at the musée d'art

[quite_a_delight]

We are stars
We will get brighter
And we will shine
Forever and ever.

Comments

[lucked]

Claire had to admit- these days, she was feeling pretty lost.

Between the appearance of a city under the island, Chris' confessions about his condition, and the knowledge that no matter what hurdles the island sent at a person, things could only get worse, Claire found herself on edge most days. Just waiting for the next crack to form. The boardwalk was the best place to go those days, a place from where Claire could see hints of everything. Waves, everywhere. Huts, not far away. The best mix of nature and nurture that one could find on that small island, and a place where she could both be alone and yet easily found, if anyone wanted to go looking for her

[quite_a_delight]

He lost his balance, nearly tumbled, saved only by a pretty spectacular flail that maybe he could've been embarrassed about if not for the giant KILLED IN CRASH literally burned across his retina.

"Sorry," he murmured distractedly, the careful calm on his face collapsing for a span of a second or two, replaced with a wave of cold, painful disbelief that sucked the air clean from his lungs.

"I..."

[lucked]

Holding out her arms to try and catch Marshall as best as she could (not that she expected they would have come out of it comfortably had he actually tumbled), Claire got to her feet as soon as Marshall regained his balance, looking worriedly over a face that look shellshocked, at best.

"No, god, don't apologize, it's totally cool," Claire replied, before her voice trailed off, eyes still gravitating towards the box with a feeling of unease. "What- what is it?"

She looked up at him, wondering if it was too much to ask if she could look, and resolutely keeping her gaze away from the scattered papers.

[quite_a_delight]

"I..."

Suddenly, the power of speech seemed like an impossible talent. Something well beyond his capabilities. He opened his mouth and all that came out was a weak squeak, lips opening and closing like a fish drowning on air.

Finally, he bent to pick up the clipping he'd dropped, frowning down at it with no more understanding than before. "I think my best friend might be dead."

[everyone_takes]

"Moosh," Kate said, although she didn't know what else to say. She'd been there for a little while now, a few minutes at least, looking at the papers inside the box and then, briefly, at the clipping in Marshall's hand. It was another one of those things, that much as obvious, like the shed he'd found before or the photo album that Alice had made for her, but the things Marshall was finding just kept getting worse and worse.

And those things weren't supposed to happen. Life had been weird in Kansas, fucked up in some of the strangest ways, but teenagers weren't supposed to die. She bit her lip, her hands coming up to rest on Marshall's shoulders as she looked at the newspaper clipping that was now resting on the boardwalk.

[quite_a_delight]

"This is a joke, right?" he said finally, staring unseeingly at the scrap of newsprint on the boardwalk.

"I mean, one of those island things. It has to be."

[everyone_takes]

"I..." It was rare that Kate was at a loss for words, but she definitely was now, unable to find anything to say. She'd never heard of the island playing a joke like this, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. Half the time it seemed like this place did things just to fuck with people, so it was probably capable of lying.

"It might be," she said finally, dropping her hand from his shoulder to his hand and threading her fingers through his.

[quite_a_delight]

He was quiet for a long moment, looking at the scatter of photographs and that creased slip of newsprint and he knew. He just knew.

"No, it's not."

[dancin_maxxie]

"Jesus, Marshall," Maxxie breathes. A startled laugh comes out with his words, as if shaken loose when the other boy hits his chest. He had been planning to sneak up on him, but this works, too.

On reflex, mostly, Maxxie sets his hands on Marshall's hips to steady him. He spares a curious glance at the spills of papers and photos on the wooden planks, but he cranes his neck around to examine Marshall's profile, his interest primarily on him. "You alright?" he asks.

[quite_a_delight]

"I don't think so," he admitted slowly, his voice flatly devoid of emotion, though it was a fine line he was awkwardly balancing. While he wasn't stuffed into a dress shirt and suspenders that afternoon, that didn't mean he wasn't behind his usual layer of armor.

"No, I'm definitely not okay."

[dancin_maxxie]

"What's wrong?" he asks. A frown grows on his face as he glances between boy and boardwalk again, but he doesn't move away from Marshall or shift his hands.

"Did something happen? What is that stuff?"

[quite_a_delight]

"It's... They're pictures of me. With my best friend. And letters he wrote to me, I guess. I don't... I don't remember any of this," he admitted, standing motionless under the weight of Maxxie's hands.

[noonelaughed]

Chris is on his way to nowhere in particular-- maybe up to the compound to see what Maxxie's up to-- when he sees Marshall there on the boardwalk and figures he might know where his mate's gone to. It's mental, the two of them living in the compound when there's a whole fuckin' island out there, but he's already lost that one.

He's about to speak when instead, Marshall stands and backs right into him.

"Hey, someone's back here, yeah?" he says, before he sees Marshall's face, and he frowns, "Alright, Marshall?"

[quite_a_delight]

He jerks to an abrupt stop, turning to give Chris an apologetic, vaguely frantic look, completely at a loss as to how to even answer that question. Was he all right? No, definitely not.

"Uh, hey. Sorry, Chris," he said, instead of launching into an explanation for something he still hadn't made sense of.