[coat] your s(k)in with /pride/ [south]

help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I have no soul to sell
it's the only thing that works for me

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It was routine now, ankles lazily hooked onto the back of an abandoned chair, fingers grazing across his battered Hemingway novel as he waited with the others for a whirlwind of twitching fingers and average (mediocre, like the rest of him) height with a mouth that moves too fast to be of any use. There's a type of beautiful in silence, something that Kaelen doesn't understand but knows (knows it in the way Alyssa's mouth falls open, eyes clenching shut before snapping open as she mouths silent words to a deity who never stopped to listen) enough to understand that Jace's presence defies the mere thought of this. Everything about him screams, whether it be lost orlonely or waiting, but he's never been one to care about how people below his celestial form deem to live their lives.

(If he could he'd sweep his hand along the chessboard of life, knocking the pawns from their little haven of depravity until simply a few standing remain. A queen, a king, a knight to guard them from harm, and a rook to stand watch throughout the night.)

There's a bang that ruined his concentration and his cold amber eyes flicker towards the intrusion, mind already marking his place. The others around him didn't seem to notice (Palmer is being his sickening self, Alyssa and Bentley do that thing where they're so close they're one being, and Abril is off squawking to whoever won't listen) and it granted him time to take in the dishevelled appearance, the hair that wouldn't stay down and the shirt undone a button or two. Kaelen grimaced and smoothed out the wrinkle in his page, repulsed but also intrigued at how there was a little black book that had Wheaton scribbling furiously in (but really, when does he ever do anything else?). Judging by the way his whole body curled around it, it was something best left unsaid.

Of course, that's exactly why he had to open his mouth, novel hanging loosely between his fingers. "You seem a bit flustered, Wheaton. Forget to stretch before strenuous activity?" Kaelen knew things that he should be unsure about, that came naturally to him because his past-time was to watch the sins of others. He knew how Alyssa floated a bit too closely towards Bentley's gravity, how Palmer would never make it out of high school, how Wheaton let his eyes linger too long on Guppy Lips when he turned. It was scrawled so clearly over his face, in the dispassionate twitch of his lips and the haughty ice in his eyes. "You could have pulled something, you know. I hear it's uncomfortable when you try to walk."

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