forum boarding school dark academia murder mystery queer love triangle rp (closed, but feel free to stalk <3)

Started April 13, 2020 by @darling-velocipede group

tune

When Kate finally arrived back at her apartment, she collapsed onto her bed, too drained to do anything but lay there and sulk. Her tears had dried by now, leaving black mascara smeared across her face from an attempt to wipe them away. She didn’t wear much makeup, but what little she had on was ruined, making her look even more like the unsteady teenager she was. She couldn’t get Zephyr’s face out of her head, and his horrible look of betrayal. Maybe she could call him? Yeah, like he would want to hear from her. Maybe she could call Leon? And alienate Zephyr further? That was bad too.

Kate lay there for who knows how long, staring at nothing and thinking of how horrible she felt. No, how horrible she was. This whole mess was her fault. If she hadn’t thought to kiss Leon in the first place, the three of them would still be in Zephyr’s apartment, laughing and slowly becoming more and more tired. Kate was the type to fall asleep first, even though it didn’t seem like it. She remembered the night she’d fallen asleep on Zephyr’s couch, content as she had ever been. In the morning, he had made her leave before she could even say anything. She’d thought maybe the two of them could make breakfast or something. It had started to feel like Zephyr was avoiding her or something after that. The two of them hadn’t hung out together in ages with Leon, though she and Leon had done a few things since then. Maybe this was a long time coming, and Zephyr was just looking for an excuse to ditch her. Well, she had to make things right for Leon and Zephyr at least.

Knowing that he probably wouldn’t answer, she called him anyway, using the logic her alcohol-addled brain gave her of at least fixing things for the other two. She was almost relieved when he let it go to voicemail and Kate decided to leave him one. He probably wouldn’t even listen to it anyway.

“Zeph, I’m so, so sorry,” she began, which already was unusual for her. She hardly ever apologized unless she was certain that she had wronged someone or she was drunk. “Look, I know that you hate me and probably only tolerated me so that you could spend time with Leon after I fell asleep at your house that one time. Anyway, I want to say that it wasn’t Leon’s fault. It was all my fault, and I’ll leave you two alone if you want to go back to being friends without me. I’m sorry.” Then she hung up, laying on her bed and staring at nothing for another little while before falling asleep. God, she was a mess.

When Zephyr awoke the next afternoon, it was, well, afternoon. He wasn't in the habit of sleeping in, to say the least, but these were special circumstances. Looking down at his hands, which were haphazardly wrapped with lengths of a pillowy gauze he didn't know he had, he sighed. Very special indeed. Every part of his body ached as he stretched his arms above his head and wiggled his toes, squinting against the bright room. He'd forgotten to even close the curtains over the wide window opposite of his bed. And it seemed a bowling ball had taken residence in his skull. After tossing the bandages off, he clumsily pulled on a t-shirt that was strewn on the floor, chiding himself for not taking off his binder before falling asleep. But from the way his head throbbed and a muddled watercolor had replaced his memories of the previous night, he had probably been drunk enough to excuse it. There wasn't time for it to matter anyway– if he didn't eat something now, he was going to throw up.

Shuffle to the kitchen, pour some cereal, there's no milk, eat it dry. A beam of green light falls through an empty wine bottle lying sideways on the table, reflecting of Zephyr's spoon and into his eye. Wincing, he pulled away and picked up the bottled; the pauper's stained glass window. He glanced at the label as he picked it up, grimacing. Hardly a pauper's stained glass window, this stuff was expensive. Drearily, he wondered if it was his or Kate's money that'd been spent on it, and her name tugged at the back of his mind. But it wasn't that that made his heart perform a rough double hammer: it was his own reflection, turned dark and olive in the bottle's dim reflection, that sent him stumbling to the mirror. An embarrassing shudder of horror raced through him as he stared at his hair. Or lack thereof. His dark curls, once falling below his ears, had been sloppily butchered so hardly a fourth-inch of dark remained, all around his head like an ominous storm cloud. But that was far from the worst of it. At the sight of his own awful haircut, other memories of the previous night returned like meteors crashing down on earth, the ground shaking under his feet. He felt sick and dizzy, a bit scared, mind still blurred around the edges by alcohol. But more than anything, and of this he was sure, he was embarrassed. Things had been ruined when he slipped up, just how he predicted. He felt stupid, and it hurt him like sand thrown into his eyes by a hot wind, frantically blinking as he tried to shed it. Zephyr wasn't in the habit of feeling stupid. But he wasn't about to cry again either.

Kate had left a voicemail apologizing, voice rippled with something closer to tears than Zephyr had ever witnessed her in, which only made him feel worse. But maybe it was the sound of Kate's pain that drove Zephyr to his ridiculous decision, his fool-proof way to cut off this part of himself, this stupid part, this "love" part, to stop himself from screwing things up with them any further. He was going to salvage things. And it wouldn't matter if he had to lie to do it. Kate, Leon, he typed into their group chat on his phone. If you two are awake, I know you're both thinking about last night. So I'm going to tell you the truth about what happened, so everything can be normal again. When did he get so used to lying? Here it is: I'm gay. I exclusively like other guys. I've been meaning to tell you for a long time, and I was just about to last night, but then you were, he swallowed, steeling himself to type the word, kissing. And I didn't want to wreck whatever was going on for you guys with my news, but I also really was ready to tell you, and so I freaked out a bit. I'd really appreciate if you both could come over this evening. No alcohol. I just want to read the journals, so we can keep moving on our investigation. And Kate, can you bring coconut water when you come over? I still refuse to keep that stuff in my apartment, but we all know that it's best for hangovers.

He sent it and tossed the phone down on his bed. It wasn't true, not a word of it. But he was ready to do whatever he had to to keep things the same, to not be the horny idiot who screwed everything up. And he was trying to think of this as a small sacrifice.

Leon had fallen asleep not only near her computer, but actually on the keyboard, clearing the search bar in a series of “//////////////////////////////////////“‘s due to a stray elbow. However, she had ceased to press enter, so the bright lights of the screen housing the big and bold letters of “Thank you for your purchase” dawned over her head. She blinked her eyes open, the screen helping none with the pounding headache. It was lesser than it should have been— she had never had really terrible hangovers, although she only had had two others to compare it to. It was odd, but she never complained.
She had slept absolutely terribly, as expected. Her neck couldn’t feel more broken, and her back wasn’t too far behind. The chair was uncomfortable in and of itself, and her eccentric position did nothing to help.
She sat upright, leaning over the back of the chair and praying for aching to cease. Although, it did give her mind something else to focus on, which she didn’t mind.
It’s not like the memories came washing back to her. If anything, they sat in little familiar pieces that she could sit down with, putting them together like a puzzle and stepping back to observe her work. Her father always praised her for that ability— to never panic, but step back for a while. At least while she was in her right mind… that ticket was a different story.
Yet she held true to it. She would go back to work tomorrow and do all she could. She would stay with the terribly impulsive decision she’d made… for the sake of Kate and Zephyr. It was for them.
Carefully, she turned to her phone, making sure not to move too quickly to keep from getting stuck in a dizzy stupor. It was earlier than she had thought, but she didn’t blame her body for waking herself up— it was extremely uncomfortable.
Even so, it still wasn’t early early. Only ten o’clock. At least it gave her some time to… think. She preferred doing that during the day. The dark was too inviting otherwise.
With a sigh, she walked to her bathroom, gazing at the reflection in the mirror. It was… not necessarily the best image to see. Dark circles under her dimmer eyes, the blue looking almost grey. It wasn’t uncommon, but it seemed suiting at the moment.
Unable to ration reasonably any longer, she decided a shower might wash away the anvil on her chest. It didn’t, whatsoever, but she was convinced the attempt was somewhat valid. And after that, what else could she do? Get dressed, probably. So high-waisted black jeans with a tucked in graphics Big Dogs shirt it was. Then, she slipped on her beat-up shoes. Done. What next? What else would keep her occupied? Music? Sure. Classic rock playlist— first song, Fool in the Rain, Led Zeppelin. Yes, this worked. Maybe she’d clean? Yes. Until the apartment was completely spotless. The paintings were hung, the clothes folded, the dishes cleaned.
But then it was just afternoon. And what then? The playlist had died down… Take it Easy, Eagles. Great song, but it kept roping her mind back to the situation. Sitting on her bed, tapping her foot, she felt like she was just… waiting. Waiting for Kate or Zephyr to drop her. Waiting for the goodbye text. Waiting for the last call.
So she pressed pause. She’d have to do more. Like what? Making music would work. It helped often. Taking the ukulele from it’s propped position on her bedside table, she began to tune it. G, C, E, A. Each shrill pluck of the string, each variation helping a little more. And then strumming. A few strum patterns she knew. Down down up, up down up. The Island Strum, they called it. Not one of her favorites, but it was nice to do mindlessly.
She didn’t sing, fearing that the second her voice left her, it would crack. She would break. She was too stubborn for that, not letting her emotions get that satisfaction.
Playing the instrument gradually held its own calmness, the thing she had been looking for. Yet, just as she entered that meditative sort of state, her phone lit with a message. Heart thrumming and head spinning, she opened it.
Head propped in her hand as she read it, her fingers curled over her mouth habitually as she felt her chest tighten. The anvil crushed back harder and heavier than ever, and she wondered if there was more than just that one.
Her playing long stopped, she stared at the screen in the silent apartment. Reading the message, she silently decided that she’d keep the ticket to herself, and would only reveal it when she had too.
With a long sigh, she texted back. The only thing she could think to say. Yet… a phrase that wouldn’t hold it’s meaning with time.
I’ll be there.

The next morning, Kate woke up with the taste of morning breath filling her mouth. Clearly, she had slept in. She checked the time on her alarm clock, seeing it was much later than she normally deigned to wake up at. Her stomach grumbled, so she slowly went up to make breakfast. Kate dumped some Fruity Pebbles, her favorite cereal, in a bowl and poured some milk over it.

She was a slow eater, taking a while to eat the cereal and thinking about last night as she did so. The memories came flooding back, each one making her more and more upset with herself. She couldn’t remember for sure whether she had sent an embarrassing voice mail or phone call or whatever, so she’d have to check that once she finished eating. She slurped the last of her rainbow-colored milk and then wiped away her milk mustache.

Kate went back to her room, and picked her phone off of her nightstand. She noticed the two new texts from the group chat. What? Maybe things weren’t as broken as Kate had thought. She opened the chat, reading through Zephyr’s most recent message three times to make sure she wasn’t imagining anything.

Zephyr was gay? She blinked, a bit relieved but also guilty that she was relieved. Obviously he didn’t like Leon then, or even herself. Kate wondered when he had realized that and why he had waited so long to tell them. Well, she and Zephyr hadn’t exactly been telling each other everything recently anyway. She guessed that he was hiding something, and this must have been it. She looked at Leon’s response. If the other girl could make it, then Kate would go as well.

She would be there for her friends, and she would bring some coconut water. Zephyr may not like having it in his fridge, but Kate had several bottles of the stuff. She happened to like the taste of it.

I’ll be there too, she added to the message. Things were fine. Everything was fine between them. She could be with Leon. No, that was selfish, wasn’t it? Kate thought for a moment. Not if Leon wanted to date her too, she decided. She put her forehead in her hand, thinking about the message from last night. Embarrassing. Best to pretend that it never happened.

Zephyr wanted so badly to be happy when Leon and Kate's messages arrived, but they did little to help the weight of dread that had settled at the bottom of his stomach. His decision to lie had seemed so logical at the same time– really, it still did. They'd never have to know any different from what he'd told them. He could double down on his efforts to quash his heart's desperate pull towards Kate. And it would all be over in less than a year anyway. He'd never see them again.

Though he had never said it outright, holding his tongue when Kate discussed the logistics of flying out from their respective colleges to see Leon in her home state, Zephyr had little intent to try and execute on any of these plans. It was nothing personal– he loved them, enjoyed their company, shared with them every hallmark of a proper friendship; something he'd never really had before. But he'd made his choice, and it wasn't people. It was in his own best interest to let these connections go, for time's sake. He'd always known he got along better with facts and books anyway. Besides, he thought bitterly, They'll probably have a better time alone together than they could if I was hovering around. That was it. The acrid taste in his mouth, the kick to his gut. He'd never thought he could have Kate. Not once, outside of lonely late nights sprawled on his bed, debating whether or not the sickening waves of movement from reaching over was worth another shot of gin had he even fantasized about what could be. But now she'd chosen Leon and the impossibility had taken on a gravel sting. Because, plain and simple, he was selfish. He couldn't have her, but he'd found security in knowing no one else could either. He framed the added sting of the guilt of his own possessive greed in heartbreak. A proud man to the last.

Getting to his feet from the armchair whose embrace he lingered in during his daze, his every bone seemed to crack. Music man, he thought nonsensically, and shook himself. Clearly he needed a distraction and settled on skimming the journals, getting a feel for their general content before Leon and Kate arrived. That way, he could know stuff that they did not right from the get go, and that always reassured him. He made it halfway across the room to the box where they waited before remembering the pen he had stolen from the bedside drawer the afternoon before and left in the pocket of his coat. If he was going to take notes, he might as well use an appropriate tool.

Looking at it, he felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't thought twice about taking it– Zephyr was far from sentimental about his own possessions and this man was dead. Had been dead for a long time. But this was a fancy pen, clearly expensive even to someone used to luxury. Gleaming red, marbled with ivory and with a gold back and tip it spoke of high knowledge and art. Slowly, he turned it in the light, transfixed by how it sparkled. Something caught his eye– a glint of silver. He stopped, squinting. A row of blocky silver letters, precisely engraved but still almost too small to discern, ran the length of the pen. For your poetry, they read. Love, HBE. The professor had had a wife who worked on campus, Zephyr recalled from his earlier research. But her name was Shauna Baylor. It could have been nothing, a gift from a relative or old girlfriend, but something about the inscription seemed familiar and tugged at the back of his brain. Resolving to show the pen to Kate and Leon later, he rose to his feet to get another aspirin for his faint but persistent headache. His desk was a mess, scattered books and lose pages, diagrams laying atop his likely uncharged laptop, the hardened wax of a nearly gone candle marring the wood. But one thing caught his eye– the cover of his Modern Chemical Biology textbook, written by a doctor of chemistry who worked at the school decades ago. More specifically his gaze fell on, the author's name written across the bottom. Dr. Herbert B. Ellis. HBE.

It all registered in his mind with a slam and he found himself frantically flipping through the glossy pages to find the author's thanks and acknowledgements. And, by some magic of chance and circumstance, there it was– the murdered professor's name. Thanks to my dearest friend, Oliver Capillon, for being invaluable to me in more ways than one. Far more, the book read.
"Holy shit," whispered Zephyr, voice dimmed by disbelief. Herbert B. Ellis still worked at the school. He was nearly 80, but claimed he felt more at home in a place of learning than alone in the surrounding city or the state of his birth.

And it seemed he and the murdered professor may have been more than friends.

Leon had never felt so lost.
It was true she walked the lengths of her apartment to Zephyr’s almost every day. And considering that was the way to school, too, it shouldn’t have been any issue. However, even walking down the pristine sidewalk lit to perfection by the midday sun, she felt more lost than ever.
But perhaps it was just in her mind. Although it may not have felt that way at all.
Then again, Leon wasn’t the kind to get really nervous. In most situations, she actually was the calmer of the trio. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this sick, the contents of her stomach almost watery and her head spinning like a top. It was either the nervousness or the fact that she hadn’t eaten. Although she didn’t much count for the latter, even though it could have been entirely valid.
She yearned to do something even more impulsive. Perhaps board her flight to Oregon today, so she could avoid not only Kate and Zephyr, but work tomorrow as well. As much as she liked painting, the job wasn’t her first choice. It was nice, until you got a customer who had no artistic interest at all, and just wanted something to keep them from the biting maw of boredom.
With a long sigh, pressing the extent of her lungs, she pushed the thought aside. It was completely invalid, seeing as she had bigger issues to worry about. It was an unfortunate alternative, but she’d have to take it.
The city wasn’t as busy as it normally was on the typical Sunday afternoon. Then again, it was still relatively early enough that those working might not have turned in just yet. Eyes gazing around, Leon tried to find anything that would lock her mind to a different circumstance, but with the city’s fine lack of bustle, her wishes were relatively quashed. Without anything else to take her hand, her mind was thrust into the dark pit of what had occurred.
Maybe she would tell them about the tickets. After all, they deserved to know. But then again, wouldn’t it be… better if she just disappeared one day? Kate and Zephyr could be together, with zero complications? That’s not saying the bickering they’d get into, but at least— Leon hoped— it would be all in good humor.
But then again, Zephyr’s excuse. Leon couldn’t help but question it. Not that she would ever flatly disbelieve his claims, but in this case she had no potent evidence to go off of. Plus, those stolen glances at Kate… his sheer personal language… she had known him long enough to where this would be validly questionable, right? Perhaps not. Maybe she should just blindly believe him. It would be easier for her. But… loads harder for him.
She waddled up the steps to his apartment building, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. Her knuckles barely hit the door the first time, her arm feeling heavy under the weight of the rising anxiety.
Leon took another deep breath in, knocking quite forcefully before she angled her tired eyes back up to meet the face that greeted her.

_{(sorry it’s moderately short. I just wanted to get something down so I don’t keep you both waiting. I said this last time, but hopefully I’m gonna be on notebook more so you won’t be having these wretched delays.)}

Kate tied her green bandana one last time before leaving the house. She was a vain creature, and the fact that she kept reminding herself that there was literally no reason to dress up did nothing. She did have a sense of fashion, so that was something, she supposed wryly. She slung a small purse over her shoulder, the green matching the cool forest green of the bandana, and hurried to Zephyr’s place. She was arriving slightly later than she had intended, thinking about how late she was. Of course, her late was other people’s on time, so her being late, even by a minute or two, was unusual.

Kate would have loved to have spent that time putting on lip gloss or something equally trivial, but instead it was anxiety that delayed her (and that she had gotten outside before remembering the coconut water). After retrieving it, she had hurried to Zephyr’s apartment. Hopefully things wouldn’t be weird between the three of them…oh who was she kidding? Things would be a bit uncomfortable at best.

Despite her desire to just straight up believe Zephyr, something had felt off about his confession. It wasn’t even that Kate thought he was lying, but it seemed like he was hiding something. He had reacted so strangely to her and Leon kissing; he wouldn’t have had that reaction if he was gay, right? Or maybe it was all in her head? Kate wished that she could just undo that night, because thinking about it was making her head hurt.

Kate tried not to think about it, but the only other thing that was on her head was the mystery. That was interesting to think about as well, but it always led back to Zephyr and Leon.

At last, Kate was nearly there, and Zephyr’s building was in sight. The anxiety continued to make itself known in the pit of her stomach. What was wrong with her? She was not usually an anxious person, but she really didn’t want to lose her friends, and somehow she felt perilously close to that. Sometimes it seemed like the others were done with their little trio and Kate was just in denial, holding the last threads of their friendship together. She shook her head, beginning to walk up the steps. She was just being dumb. Overthinking was the true culprit here, and that was that.

(sorry it’s short! i’m feeling pretty uninspired rn)