listen to the stories (Addison)

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

There was nothing nerdy about being alone. Definitely not on a Saturday, and especially not on a Saturday evening when just about everybody he knew was getting ready to go out somewhere or do something fun, exciting, and probably slightly dangerous. He knew someone would notice he was missing. Right now, RJ was probably throwing a fit in their dorm room because he’d promised he’d be there at half past eight so they could head over to the Codfish and get everything all set up. And what was worse—or possibly a little bit better—was that he hadn’t forgotten. That in itself was a little bit of a miracle. Will was probably calling his cell phone, but they’d find that buried under the mound of clothes on his bed within ten minutes. Maybe they’d worry, but probably not. He planned on showing up eventually.

He’d bought some hot chocolate on his way to the park, though only just now was it cooling down enough to safely drink. He sipped it carefully, wiping the warm whipped cream mustache that appeared when he shivered and swallowed, gripping the paper cup tight for some semblance of warmth. Ten minutes. Sitting in the snow on the bank of a frozen pond with a warm drink and not a single friend or drug to be found, the world seemed awfully quiet to Freddie, never mind the thriving, endlessly unsleeping city just a few hundred steps in any direction. He felt heavy. Scuffing his toe in the ground a bit, he sniffled—not out of sadness or anything, Jesus no—he was just cold. There was nothing to be sad about. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t care that it was January thirtieth and he’d tried to call home when he was at the library (because God knew no one would expect him to be there) and no one had answered and he definitely didn’t care that when he’d called That Place they’d said sorry, but She couldn’t talk right now—she was in the middle of talking to someone else, someone more important to her, someone who could help her get Better.

He didn’t care. He promised.
This hot chocolate just tasted good.

And he was definitely the kind of person who loved being alone on Saturday nights.

Freddie Foster was the absolute best at being alone, and damn if this hot chocolate wasn’t the best he’d ever had. Fuck if he couldn’t feel his legs or his fingers or his nose anymore. Fuck if She hadn’t called him back, fuck if she was never getting out of That Place and fuck if she never wanted to see him again and god dammit, fuck if he was crying. Which he wasn’t. And he definitely wasn't crying about mothers.

[ADDISON ROWE]

It was freezing.

Addison cannot remember the last time it was this cold, though she can definitely say that it had to have been this cold last night and the night before and the night before that, just because that’s what all the weather stations had been saying. She understood now why they all advised wearing lots of layers and to stay inside if you could. It was freezing. Even with a thermos of hot tea in her gloved hands, Addison couldn’t stop shivering. She knew it would be best to go back to her dorm, wrap herself up in blankets, and read a book in bed. That was how Saturday evenings should be spent, warmly and cozily. Not outside and cold at Central Park. Oh well. She had been wanting to go on a quiet stroll through the park at night, enjoying the silence that always seemed to come with snow blanketing everything – the trees, the ground, the benches. It was nice.

… It was still freezing. Addison took a long drink of her tea, ignoring the initial burning and focusing instead on the warmth it brought. If only she had the ability to refill things the moment they were empty, she’d have finished her tea right then. Not knowing how long she’d be out for, though, she clutched the container to her chest and continued on. Perhaps she’d be warmer if she’d invited somebody along with her. Even the presence of being with another person would have cheered her up a bit (not that she was upset, it’s just that dreariness was settling into her bones just as the cold was). It would have been just rude of her, though, to bother anybody on a Saturday evening. All of her friends would surely have something already planned. Time to spend with family, or parties to go to, or movies to see. This certainly wasn’t a night for a walk in the park.

And yet, there. Just a bit off the path, sitting next to a frozen pond, was a boy. Addison stopped where she was and squinted a bit, wondering who in their right mind would be sitting in the snow, trying to figure out if she knew him. From this distance and in this light, she couldn’t be sure. Against her better judgment (for all she knew, it was some psycho), Addison left the path and trudged through the snow over to him. Once she was closer, she recognized him and a quiet little “oh” escapes her, and she tried and failed to come up with any reasons as to why Freddie Foster is alone in the cold on a Saturday evening.

Nonetheless, she continued until she was beside him and she sat down without asking. Addison asked the first stupid question that came to mind: “aren’t you cold?”

outfit
notes;

i love you scouuutt, i hope this is okay<3
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[FREDDIE FOSTER]

He wasn’t cold, his nose was just always this red. And his fingers—they were usually this stiff, practically frozen around his drink. It was nice out here. Damn beautiful, really, and he was loving every minute of it. The silence, the solitude—it was precisely Freddie’s sort of environment. No people to pester at or bother him, no drinks to chug or pills to pop or joints or even cigarettes to smoke. This was definitely his kind of place, he told himself. For sure. He belonged in Central Park, with the birds and the bees and the sky scrapers towering above him no matter what way he turned, constantly reminding him that people stayed on the ground and no one could get away from anything, really, not forever, no matter how hard they wished or tried. Not that he was wishing for anything. Just some more hot chocolate, maybe. Or a new pair of pants or boxers or gloves, just to keep out the chill that had begun to soak through his clothes. Nothing more. He didn’t need more than that. Maybe a smoke, if someone had the mind to walk by and offer. He’d take one, if somebody asked. It was just that so far, no one had.

Hearing someone sit down beside him, Freddie jumped. His hot chocolate, being much too empty to spill anywhere dangerous, remained safely in his lap as he turned to face the intruder—no, this wasn’t his place, he didn’t own anything here, he didn’t belong here—who’d dared cross him tonight. Thank God it wasn’t RJ. Thank God it wasn’t Will or Andie or anyone else he knew.

Jesus shit, it was Addison Rowe.

“Uh—” Freddie stammered, momentarily dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of the girl who up until now he’d thought never left her room on the weekends. “Not really.” He shook his head, and his teeth chattered. Sipping some coco, he quickly dispelled that nonsense. He smiled, but it was nothing like the typical cocky Foster grin—there was something in his eyes that was different, or perhaps it was the way the right hand corner of his lips didn’t quite turn upright, a change perfectly conspicuous to anyone who knew where to look.

Curling his hands rather protectively around his cup, Freddie stared silently at the girl for a long moment before turning away again, far too stubborn to go with his gut and get up and walk away. Then again, he was completely unaware of the red circles rimming his eyes, ever so more distinctive than the bloodshot stare he got when he was high. Freddie Foster had most definitely been crying. Had he bothered to notice—or perhaps admit it—he’d have been gone in an instant. Such things weren’t for girls to see, and definitely not girls like Addison.

“So, um—” he shifted, suddenly aware of just how wet the seat of his pants were and just how badly his nose was running. He rubbed absently at his cheek and continued to mumble, not looking at the girl once. “What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

[ADDISON ROWE]

Oh! She’d startled him. An apology was in order, she was sure, but perhaps it could wait until after he’d answered her first question. What sort of inquiry had that been, anyway? Of course he had to be cold in weather like – not really? Well, maybe he was impervious to freezing temperatures such as this. “Huh…

” Addison raised one shoulder and moved her legs closer to her chest, “I am.[/color]” It’s a comment that she made without really thinking about it. She was cold, chilled to the bone, and it was obvious. Addison had managed to keep her teeth from chattering by keeping her mouth shut tight, save for when she was speaking or drinking her tea. Mmmm, tea. She took another sip and waited for it to warm her up a bit.

Glancing at Freddie, it was somehow clear as day to her that something was wrong. She’d only known him for so long, but there was something different about his smile and… She narrowed her eyes, watching his own very closely and… well, she wasn’t even sure if Fredrick Foster did cry, but that’s how he sort of liked right now, didn’t he? Before she could stare any longer, he looked away and she dropped her gaze as well, blinking, as if woken from a dream. Again, she wondered why Freddie of all people was alone on a Saturday evening at Central Park. “Oh… um.[/color]” What was she doing out here again? When there’s a perfectly good book and a warm bed waiting for her back at the dorms? “It’s actually a really nice night for a walk through the park.[/color]”

And it was. Addison wasn't quite sure how it worked, but she could see more beauty in her surroundings more now than she could when she stuck to the cleared pathways. Maybe it was something about being closer to nature. Admittedly, the trees were bare and everything was dead, but there was frost on the bark and if she looked closely, the ice on the pond sparkled when it caught the right light, and the stars were somehow clearer here than they were anywhere else. How come she didn’t notice any of these things before? “Hmm…[/color]” She smiled a bit, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “It’s beautiful.[/color]”

Despite the simplicity of it all, she found herself rather antsy just sitting still, and so Addison took one of her gloves off and began to draw little pictures in the snow, things like a house and trees and whatever else you might expect to find on a kindergartner’s art homework. “What fun is it staying cooped up inside all day, right?[/color]” She’s half kidding, knowing that everybody knew her to do just that. She almost sounded bitter. Shaking her hand to bring feeling back into her fingers, Addison looked at Freddie and was amused somehow that the two of them are here together, sitting in the snow by a little frozen pond. “What’re you doing out here?[/color]”
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[FREDDIE FOSTER]

Addison was right. It was nice enough, he supposed, if you were into freezing your ass off and being surrounded by fake wildlife. Freddie shot her a glance as he sipped his drink, noting without meaning to just how nicely her hair fell when she pulled it over her shoulder like that. It’d probably feel real nice, running it though his fingers. And if he kissed her, surely he’d warm up a bit. But he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t want him to, and for once in his life, Freddie didn’t particularly feel like locking lips.

Obviously something was very, very wrong.

“It’s not bad, I guess…” he shrugged, downed the last of his hot chocolate and set the cup in the snow beside him. If he remembered, he’d pick it up when he got up to leave. Chances were, he wouldn’t.

Watching Addison, Freddie shifted a bit, completely quiet where a few hours ago, he would have inevitably laughed or made a joke. He should have asked what she was doing, made some crack about this being a perfect learning environment, but he didn’t. Instead, he appeared mesmerized by the designs she made in the snow, careful to stare at them and not her, and even more sure to remain silent about it all. Drawing his legs up to his chest, Freddie wrapped his arms around his shins and set his chin on his knees. He laughed a bit, though it sounded hollow. “I don’t know, that’s what I was planning on doing…”

Biting his lip, Freddie shifted again, eyes snapping away from her the moment she looked towards him. He was quiet, staring out at the pond as though someone horribly interesting was happening there on the ice. Maybe if he looked long enough, she’d just go away and he’d never have to answer. He hated questions. Addison didn’t need to ask him that—couldn’t she tell that was the one thing she shouldn’t have opened her mouth about?

And yet, his mouth seemed to move without direction. No more than a mumble, but definitely there, Freddie scuffed his toe in the snow a bit and muttered at his knee, “I used to go camping, when I was a kid...You could see galaxies, if the sky was clear enough.”

He was a complete fucking idiot.

[ADDISON ROWE]

Addison kept her eyes focused on the drawings she’d made in the snow, wondering what had even prompted her to do something like that. She pulled her glove back on and clasped her hands together tightly, waiting for them to warm up again. She closed her eyes, taking slow and deep breaths. There was something about the cold that was often wonderful; the way the air felt crisp, and how it had a sort of fresh smell to it. She’d always preferred breathing cold air as opposed to warm. Addison lifted her head a bit and she fixed her eyes back on Freddie.

She smiled a little at that. It wasn’t bad, he guessed. To each their own, right? Addison leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees and pursed her lips, noticing idly how her breath was visible, and briefly remembering how she and her brother would pretend to be dragons when they were little. “Really?

” It was hard to believe, to say the least. Addison shrugged and stretched out her fingers. “If I’d of known, we could have stayed inside all day together.[/color]” Shortly after she’d suggested it, Addison looked away from him, no doubt to hide how red her cheeks had just become.

He was so quiet. She pressed her palms against her knees, waiting for him to say something. Anything, really. She almost expected him to get up and leave, or for him to tell her to get lost. Something like that. She’d almost started to say whatever first came to mind, whatever would break the silence. Because while it wasn’t at all awkward or uncomfortable (for her, anyway), there were certain times when silence really wasn’t golden. He beat her to it, though. Addison looked sort of confused at first, and then surprised, and then it hit her that this wasn’t any sort of random comment.

“That must’ve been nice,[/color]” she said after a moment, having never known herself what it was like to go camping. Not exactly easy to do it, having lived in cities all her life. She tilted her head back to look up at the stars above them now and found herself almost disappointed that so little of them were visible. The view might have been nicer here than deeper in the city, but her heart was suddenly set on seeing a big clear sky, some night, without city smog and the glow of skyscrapers to get in the way.
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