These Days • •

[blaise mackinley stanton]

New York was in a perpetual haste that Blaise disliked greatly. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the City that Never Sleeps, but he had wanted to go to school somewhere close to home in Philadelphia, but somewhere far enough away that he could stand on his own two feet, too. New York had been the simplest choice with the best school. The cons outweighed the pros though, at least for the young man with the anxiety. There was so much going on all the time, and Blaise never found five minutes of peace anywhere he went. It was always loud, always full of sirens and drama happening somewhere and it was nearly impossible to just sit back and clear his mind in the way he needed to at the end of each day. Blaise didn’t think he had ever worn headphones as much as he did before he moved to New York, but now they were always on whenever he was making his commute to the campus or to work, and even when he was at home in the evening he needed music to block out the soundscape of the city beyond his small apartment.

At least in the college library there was a modicum of peace. Blaise went there between his classes most days. He wasn’t really big on the ‘traditions’ of student life. No one ever saw Blaise at one of the college parties, and he didn’t join any of the societies or clubs that were on offer around the campus. Even in his classes he kept to himself as much as he could and only ever spoke with people when they approached him or when he was forced into group projects. Thankfully, his professors weren’t so big on them in his class like they appeared to be in some others. He supposed it was a perk of studying a subject that relied rather heavily on personal interpretation and historical facts. It meant he could just keep his head done, hand in essays when they were due, sit the exams, and head out when the hour was up each day. He didn’t have to stick around or partake in deep discussions and get called out when he least wanted to speak. He knew there was a note circulated each semester about his GAD, but he also knew how forgetful teachers could be when they taught so many students; he didn’t think any of them actually remembered him or his anxiety issues long enough to truly worry about him in class.

Sitting at one of the tables in the corner, Blaise was content to spend the rest of the time there between the lunch period and the last class he had of the day at four o’clock. He was working after that at Barnes and Noble until nine, which meant today was his busiest day of the week, and the one he disliked most of all. He just kept his head down and tried to soldier on through, his hand clutching his medicine in the pocket of his jeans should he need to grab it at any moment. Right now though, engrossed in the old text before him, Blaise was content. He enjoyed letting his mind quickly translate the medieval English to something that was a little more comprehensible in this day and age. It was almost soothing to him. Turning the page, he continued letting his dark eyes move over Chaucer’s text, scribbling down a few notes when he felt it was necessary.

• • •

TAGGED! @alick
WORDS! 586!
OUTFIT! Bookish Boy!
LYRICS! Nerve - - - The Story So Far
NOTES! <3

[Deleted]

Part of being a music major meant taking music history classes. Alick didn't mind taking the history of music classes; they actually interested her more than regular history classes, which she also had to take as general education classes. Alick was getting a headstart on a research paper she had to write. They had gotten to choose the topic, but it had to be music related. Alick had decided to do her research on the history of Broadway, since she adored Broadway. In fact, she dreamed of one day being on stage there. She didn't care if it was just as an extra; she just wanted to be able to stand on the stage and say she had performed on Broadway. 

Most of the things Alick needed were at the library, and she had wanted to use mostly books because she felt they were more reliable. Plus, they would give her more information to work with. She went to the library after her last class of the day, which happened to be around lunch time. She loved having such an easy schedule. At least, on these days, anyway. The other days were pretty booked with classes. But, these days gave her more time to work on the things she needed to get caught up on or work on. 

The little girl walked into the library, sitting down at a computer to see where the books she needed were placed. She scribbled down the call numbers and logged off the computer. She grabbed three books before heading towards the back corner to find her last book of the day. Her eyes scanned the spines of the hundreds of books, searching for the right call number. She had to take a step back as she looked up at the top shelf of the tower of books. Of course the book she needed was at the very top. The book shelves were at least twice the size of her, which meant she needed a step stool in order to reach the book. They didn't have any in the general area, and that made Alick a little upset. She really needed the book. 

She bit at her lip, looking around for a solution, her brain moving at a million miles per hour. That's when her eyes landed on a boy sitting at a table by himself. She grinned, and she made her way over to him. She set the three books that she was cradling on the table in front of him. 

"Hi."

She spoke, a little too loud for a library. Alick didn't necessarily have a 'quiet' voice. There was loud and louder. That was all she could manage. She tried really hard to make herself quieter, but she couldn't get the hang of it. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need help reaching a book. Would you mind?"

She asked. 


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[blaise mackinley stanton]

Blaise was convinced he had a talent to stay invisible. It was rare for anyone to ever bother him, and that was sort of the way he liked it. He had always kept to himself, especially after his father had died. Back then even his own mother had struggled to get anything out of him, and her last resort had been to call in doctors and have her son medically diagnosed and sent to therapy sessions. He had hated those, even if they were supposed to have helped him. Blaise still didn’t know if they had helped him, or if he had moved on from that grieving period on his own. It wasn’t like he had ever spoken to the doctors, shared feelings with them. He wasn’t comfortable doing that with the people he honestly felt like he could trust, so he certainly wasn’t about to do that with a total stranger who had letters after his name that made him a professional.

He never saw them anymore unless it was for an annual check on his medication and to make sure he was happy with everything. Blaise just coasted through those appointments, nodding yes to everything. Yes, he wanted to keep the medication. Yes, he was feeling fine. No, he didn’t want to try therapy again. That was the only question that received a negative answer from him. He didn’t like feeling pressured, and he hated people demanding that he be more like others. He was who he was and it was as simple and as clean cut as that. He had problems, just like so many in the world, and those problems meant he wouldn’t be running for President, or breaking out on Hollywood screens. Blaise didn’t want anything like that though. He was content with his books and the beat up guitar that had been his father’s.

Music was his secret solace. No one he knew was ever told about how it comforted him, or how he had a small talent for it either. He took to a few open mic nights once in a while, which was exceptionally out of character for the day to day Blaise McKinley, but on those nights he found strength from his late father and the guitar he played with. He never saw the crowd, or the lights, but just memories and the music. It was once in a blue moon, a secret passion that he was never going to be ready to share with anyone but a room of faceless strangers. Something in the text he was reading had triggered thoughts about just that, and although he was still staring at the page, his mind was elsewhere. So, when someone greeted him, Blaise almost jumped out of his seat in fright, dark eyes wide. Swallowing hard and catching his breath again, he nodded and pushed himself up. He was used to people asking him for help with this sort of thing since it sort of came with the territory of being tall, and Blaise cashed in at six two. “W-what is it?” He had to punctuate each word to fight his usual stammer, though it still slipped through at the beginning. Of all the things Blaise wished he could have changed over the years, his speech impediment was one of them. However, it came in a bundle pack with his anxiety issues, which meant it was sticking around unless he found a way to overcome the other – which he couldn’t.

• • •

TAGGED! @alick
WORDS! 588!
OUTFIT! Bookish Boy!
LYRICS! Nerve - - - The Story So Far
NOTES! <3

[Deleted]

<sub>Alick had been a lucky one in life. Sure, she had watched her mother being murdered from a closet and wasn't found for days after the fact, but she hadn't been completely traumatized by it. Since she was so young, she was resilient. She still had nightmares about it, especially about the men finding her and killing her, though that was never going to happen. For one, it was a random burglary, so they had no idea who the family was or that they had a little girl. For two, Alick and her dad had seeked refuge in the States and moved a few times before settling down. So unless they really wanted her dead, they wouldn't go through the process of tracking her down to kill her. Her father had thrown her into counseling soon after it happened, not wanting his daughter to deal with what she had seen by herself. He knew he couldn't help her the way she needed, and it killed him to know that his little girl was suffering. Or so he thought because when she was evaluated, she was fine. Alick talked to her psychiatrist a little too much, and their professional opinion was that she was fine and happy. 

Her father didn't believe them, and he sent her to another therapist who said the same thing. But he made her keep going, even though Alick didn't want to go. That's when Tatum did the only helpful thing for Alick. She talked her father out of forcing Alick into therapy, and Alick was thankful to Tatum for that. Sure, Alick missed her mom more than anything in the world. She would even give up her singing voice if she could just see her mom one more time, but she knew she couldn't live in the past. She knew her mom didn't want her to live like that. She knew her mom wanted her to go out and live her life the way she was supposed to. She knew her mom wanted her to complete her dream of being a Broadway star, and that's what Alick intended to do. Sometimes she felt that what happened in her life was to make her stronger for the hell of a ride it was going to be to the top. She knew she was going to get knocked down many, many times. She also knew that if she could get through the hardest thing a person can go through (losing a parent), she could get through the criticism and failures. 

She smiled at the boy, noting that he seemed a little timid. Alick found it a little ironic that he was timid and that she was so loud and outgoing. Her personality should have been placed in someone of his height, and that his should have been placed in a body her size. That's how life worked though. It was always pulling out ironic stops, which amused Alick. 

"It's the history of Broadway."

She told him, pointing to a call number on her paper. 

"That's the call number. If I pointed to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick out which one I was pointing to."

She said, laughing a little. It would probably look like she was pointing at something on a lower shelf when in reality, it was the tallest shelf she would be pointing t. 

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[blaise mackinley stanton]

For the two years when Blaise didn’t speak to a soul, he was oddly at peace. He was grieving for his father and never wanted to leave the house, but in his mind it was quiet. There was none of the buzz that there was today, the constantly murmuring of thoughts that demanded his attention be in five other places at once. Of course, if he ever brought that up someone would brush it off as a side effect of the medication. Blaise didn’t want to have to slip quietly into an argument by pointing out that he had been first placed on that medication six months into those two years and still there was radio silence and an odd tranquillity beneath all the chaos that drowned him when it came to daily life. School filled him with a cold dread, and people made his skin crawl with fear. The tiniest of things could send him into a panic and for the longest of time he doubted he’d ever be able to leave the family home and the safety of happy memories there.

There were people who shook their heads at Blaise’s reliance on his medication, but it worked enough to allow him to get out of his apartment. There were days here and there where he didn’t even manage that, but that was usually when deadlines were looming, and things were becoming stressful. He planned things out well enough that he wasn’t one of those students scribbling essays out at the last minute, but the thought of a deadline date still freaked him out, even if he was three hundred words from finished with a week to go. It was part of the GAD, and not something he could explain to anyone. Thankfully his professors had notes signed by medical professionals to explain his issues, so they sort of expected him to be missing here and there and they reached out to see if he was okay when he did show his face again a day or two later, usually looking a little pale and sheepish upon return.

Blaise just looked at the number and nodded. He had never made small talk in his life simply because he couldn’t. Anxiety overwhelmed him when he didn’t need it to and he could really do without the pressure of trying to figure out what to say in a quiet moment. Instead, he just let his eyes scan the shelf for the right book and then just plucked it out of its place and passed it down to the girl. “H-here you go.” He said with a quick, awkward smile. It was the kind that you’d miss if you blinked at that moment. With the book handed over and his job done, Blaise turned back to his table and went to sit back down again.

• • •

TAGGED! @alick
WORDS! 475!
OUTFIT! Bookish Boy!
LYRICS! Nerve - - - The Story So Far
NOTES! <3