it's a wonderful world - - hayden

[Deleted]

JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

A fresh blanket of snow laid on the ground, but Tiffany knew very well the weather had little to do with the familiar chill in her bones. A decade of progress had changed her hometown little, which left more than enough room for her ghosts to accompany her on this particular journey back home. In the years past, she had an excuse to stay on campus at Princeton. There was always some imaginary test she was working on or a friend in need. Graduating earlier in the year left her defenseless against her mother's persuasion. Of course, it wasn't unlike Mrs. Prescott at all to buy nonrefundable tickets. The very monetary value wasted if Tiffany were to stand up her parents for a seventh year in a row was enough to pack her bags out of guilt. Her mother was eager to meet the young man Tiffany had been dating. The very man who dumped her flat on her ass for his best friend. The now-single Tiffany needed to be with her family during the holidays more than she knew. Unfortunately, she was much to stubborn to admit her currently weak, unstable state. That was the very person she became following Neal Prescott's demise.

The theater where Tiffany worked molded her schedule to accommodate the two-week absence Mrs. Prescott requested. Tiffany didn't have any idea what she'd do to keep sane for two entire weeks, but she was aware of how much family time meant to her mother. She was an only child now whether she learned to accept her fate or not. Avoiding her birthplace was selfish, especially since Chantilly was full to the brim with people who cared. One family cared more than the rest. The Scott family. Growing up, Tiffany had been close to the youngest Scott daughter, Peyton. It worked just as well that Neal and Hayden were best friends, too. Mr. and Mrs. Scott had always held their doors wide open for the Prescott children, and Neal's death had shaken their souls every bit as severely. When she learned about her mother's Christmas dinner plans, Tiff was struck with conflict. Seeing the Scott parents and Peyton hadn't struck a note inside her for a very long time. Christmas was no exception.

"They're all so very excited to see you," Mrs. Prescott gushed. "Peyton's grown so big! What is she, honey? Twenty-five now?" Tiffany sighed. Sitting in the back seat, she was left to her mind's devices. The conversation one row ahead of her soon translated to jibberish. The last time she came into contact with a Scott hadn't been pleasant. While she worked her tail off striving for Neal's dreams, Hayden was serving Los Angeles sluts milkshakes by the pool. The very disappointment left her mouth dry until Mrs. Scott's suffocating hug had her gasping for air. "It's so good to see you!" was followed by various greetings. As usual, Tiffany gave up her coat to be hung. The smell of stuffing, turkey, and other holiday treats wafted through the air. The cheery holiday scene was exactly how she remembered from her childhood. Except, of course, Neal was dead. Soon enough, the group migrated to the kitchen where Mrs. Prescott insisted on helping Mrs. Scott with dinner. Peyton was setting the table, Mr. Scott was carving the ham.

For a brief moment, Tiffany convinced herself she'd be able to survive the night. Peyton's warm, beautiful smile helped her relax, and a bubbly glass of Sprite Zero rested in her hand. "Look at you!" Mrs. Scott cooed. "You're so grown up now!" Tiffany smiled politely. "Your mother tells me you graduated college this spring. How's it feel to be free?" She shrugged. "Stressful, I guess," she replied. Her cheeks were beginning to redden, though she wasn't sure why. Mrs. Scott radiated an abundance of good cheer no matter what time of the year. It seemed to feed off of Tiffany's negativity. "Any boys?" Tiffany shook her head. Not really. Not again. Donovan went to prove yet another fact about Tiffany's evolving life. It was barren of love. "That's okay, dear. You'll find someone given enough time. I was telling..." She paused. The sound of a car door slamming was easily heard through the thin glass windowpanes. "It seems to me Hayden's back with the potatoes!" she said instead. Tiffany's blood froze in her veins. Hayden. Sure enough, his masculine physique stepped through the old garage door. The cup of Sprite near fell from her hand to the floor. Tonight suddenly became unbearable.

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 763 words
outfit here.
notes not sure why i fail so hard.

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 866 notes: My favorite gif idk O: Ah, to be home for the holidays. Chantilly was the same old place. Before he even made it home, Hayden visited his dead best friend's grave. It seemed depressing, but it was therapeutic for the struggling actor. It was the only thing on the planet that made him believe there was a God. He grew up with a supportive church, but as most churches were, it was full of judgmental people whom he did not wish to encounter as an adult. Hayden enjoyed going out with old high school and college buddies, but he didn't want them to ask him about his sins and transgressions. The only person he truly trusted with the information was Neal. He was in the ground, unable to judge Hayden. At times, Hayden felt like Neal sat in Heaven and laughed at Hayden's misfortunes. Best friends had to hold each other accountable, after all. Neal was still the only one Hayden had left to trust. He was the only one Hayden wanted to laugh with. After laughing and talking to the grave, Hayden left a lone Twinkie -- Neal's favorite snack as a teenager -- at the headstone. He looked like a psychopath, but that's what Hayden was. No one could see it but himself. He seemed so normal to his new friends in LA, but he wasn't. He was no Superman. When he came back home, he was demoted back to Hayden, the failure. While Peyton was pursuing a career in dentistry, Hayden was a med school graduate with nothing to show for it. Whenever he came home, his father took his time to rag on the guy, telling him that he made the wrong decision. It wasn't like Hayden was on student loans; he worked for his education and rode on athletic scholarships until he could support his own educational expenses. Since then, he decided, he was a man. He knew how to take care of himself and it didn't actually matter what his family thought. Other than Peyton, they were full of shit. This whole town was full of shit. Hayden could tell because none of them remembered Neal at all. "Potatoes, you said? Nothing else?" Hayden asked his mother. Only minutes after arriving, his father had begun on his rants about how terrible Justice League was going to be. A judge and a man of virtue, Mr. Scott didn't believe in the lifestyle of Hollywood actors. Even if Hayden was slowly becoming successful, his father wasn't going to accept a son who didn't take advantage of the Johns Hopkins degree. Hayden understood it slightly, but his mother didn't. She always wanted him to have a way out. "Yes, just potatoes," she nodded. He knew she was probably lying to give him an excuse to leave the house. "Okay!" he nodded. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! Tiffany! Do you remember Tiff? She is all grown up and she's quite beautiful now... Well, she's coming over for dinner." Mrs. Scott gave her son a sideways glance. Hayden feigned nonchalance. "Cool," he shrugged before leaving through the garage door. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. He peeled out of the driveway in a blind rush and headed to the nearby Food Lion for the potatoes. He was about to see Tiffany? While he came home each year for the holidays, she was always MIA. He never knew about what she was doing. Other than Donovan Kane, he was sure she was busy with... well, real stuff... or real people. He knew what she thought about him: she thought he was a trainwreck, bad news, a failure. She saw him as his father did. He never let it bother him, but now that it was going to be in front of Peyton, he didn't know how to react. His baby sister looked up to him like no other. He didn't feel like being emasculated at the dinner table. He sighed as he finally made it home. In a rush, he completely forgot about the sack of spuds in the passenger seat. He tramped into the house and hung the keys on the rack before coming in and running into Peyton. She averted her gaze to someone on the other side of the room. It had been years since Hayden stood in the same kitchen with her. "Tiffany," he greeted. "Oh. Potatoes," he reminded himself. His mother's eyes were on him and the two older men were discussing football in their own part of the kitchen. Mr. Prescott hadn't noticed Hayden yet; he would have been questioning him about his life lately. Before Mrs. Prescott could smother him, he went into the garage. "Tiffany, could you grab some drinks from the fridge in the garage as well?" he heard his mother say. She was playing hook-up again. He turned around to see Tiffany. It was just the two of them now. Either it was going to be a war or it was going to be an alliance.

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Okay, so maybe Christmas dinner had taken a major turn towards the dumpster. That didn't mean she couldn't plug her nose and ignore the stench. Mrs. Scott only meant well. Of that, Tiffany was absolutely sure. Flashing back to her days as a teenager, Tiff remembered once confiding in Hayden's mother about boys. She hadn't directly hinted towards her son, but Tiffany hadn't been incredibly cautious with her heart, either. How was a young girl like her supposed to handle her first major crush? Novels outlined the basics. Actually playing out the right moves and right words was another story altogether. Granted, Tiffany had high expectations to live up to back in the day. Neal was the king of charm, Chantilly's number two heartthrob. Hayden had always held the Gold medal in Tiff's heart, so her warped outlook of him now was an amazing shock.

The truth was Tiffany's last visit with Hayden hadn't settled well. At all. Mrs. Prescott had never mentioned Hayden's presence at Christmas dinners. Coming home had been an ultimatum she couldn't wiggle out of; Tiff was wondering how much their mothers had a say in this entire affair. Hayden looked equally baffled to see her standing awkwardly in his parent's kitchen. "Tiffany," he greeted. Sincere, warm, forgiving. Tiffany's eyes averted from the floor to his face in a matter of seconds. "Hey," she replied. Her smile was genuine (enough) to look convincing, though her innards felt like Jell-O. Her perfectly reworked outlook of him was undoubtedly inaccurate. All with one word. Her name. Tiffany. Indecision was one concept Tiff couldn't stand, so the mixed emotions churning throughout her mind scared her. It always came back to him. And Neal.

Although she promised not to zone out, Tiffany found herself staring into the empty spot Hayden's body once was. "Hey, Tiffany?" Mrs. Scott thrust her out of her trance. "Could you grab some drinks from the fridge out in the garage?" What? Drinks? Garage? With Hayden. Tiffany nodded, shrugging nonchalantly, adding a gentle "Yeah, of course!" Tiffany set her nearly empty can of Sprite on the counter before following Hayden out into the garage. There were no words to describe the explosion of diverse scenarios arising inside her mind. No one could prepare her for the real deal. It was funny-- life had the tendency to shoot as many curve balls at her as possible. None of them were relatively easy to navigate, either. Her brother's death. Donovan's cheating. Hayden's being here. It was an endless stream of tragedies from Pandora's box.

Standing face to face with Hayden now, Tiffany's mind was reeling. They were in his parent's house like old times, and she was lost in the ache of returning home. Not to mention she expected to spend the holidays with Donovan. "Your mom sent me for drinks," Tiffany offered. After the way she treated him at the country club, Tiffany was at a loss for words and actions. Her parents raised her to apologize for her wrongs. For whatever reason, she just couldn't formulate an apology. Tiffany's soul was guarded with electric fences and high-security alarms. Apologies tasted like poison on her tongue. Getting in and out of the garage as soon as possible sounded like the best-case scenario. Though, to be honest, when she saw what Hayden was holding in her hands, she couldn't help but finding his catch a wee bit suspicious. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she asked, "You do realize your mom already made mashed potatoes, right?"

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 594 words
outfit here.
notes I feel like this is terrible. skijge.

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 700 notes: My favorite gif idk O: Just by looking at her face, Hayden could see a glimpse of old Tiffany: vulnerable, innocent, adorable. He couldn't help but let a smile get the best of him. The corners of his mouth pulled up a Cheshire expression. In a way, he was very happy to see her. In others, it made him feel like his entire body was on fire. Even with the physical differences, she was still Neal's younger sister. Seeing her parents was different; they liked Hayden. They didn't know that he was a coward or that he knew how Neal really died. So many people suspected suicide while others accepted the fact that it was a total freak accident. No one understood that it was on Hayden's shoulders. He shared the blame with the girl standing right in front of him, the one who looked disgusted and out of context in the garage they used to play in. He looked down at the potatoes and back at her. "Fair enough," he nodded. She wasn't about to apologize for her behavior at the country club, and he wasn't expecting one. She didn't have to say much; the most he could remember from that encounter was how nice she looked in a bathing suit. He'd never admit it to her, but that was true. It seemed slightly forgivable because his oblivious nature always allowed him to forgive what he didn't fully understand. On top of that, Tiffany was attractive, which actually did earn her some forgiveness. It wasn't like it was okay to think that, though; Hayden had just gone to visit her dead brother, after all, and Neal would probably beat the living shit out of him if he could read Hayden's mind. "I guess my mom knew you didn't want to see me," he teased before shutting the front door of the car behind him. "Let me help you with a few drinks," he offered before walking over to the fridge and opening it up. He looked at the various beverages: Gatorade, Sprite, Dr. Pepper -- he could tell that his mother had prepared these drinks for them (and Peyton). He knew that because his parents rarely indulged in soft drinks or anything particularly enjoyable. The Gatorade was blue, Neal and Hayden's old favorite, which Hayden, by reflex, reached for in a blink. He slid it down his arm until it made contact with his antecubital and grabbed two Dr. Peppers in his large hands. Once he saw that Tiffany had a handful of various drinks, he shut the refrigerator door and headed back up the steps to his house. Before he made it into the door, he turned to her and was surprised with their close contact. It was like the air around him was sucked of its heat when he looked into her crystal blue eyes. "I'm glad to see you're home again," he told her rather seriously. He stared for a moment longer before opening the door with his elbow and hearing the loud noise of his sister's laughter. Once the Prescotts were seated and the food was on the table, the two families said their prayers and began to eat. On the table lay plates of various culinary concoctions: parmesan chicken, seared salmon with caramelized onions, green beans, and mac n' cheese. Hayden didn't remember his mother being a particular good cook, but after eating out, he could see why food made with love was so valuable. He put everything on his plate at once, but before he could bite into it, Mr. Prescott spoke up. "So Hayden, your father says you're Superman now? How about that?" he encouraged. Hayden smiled charmingly and nodded his head. Peyton spoke up. "So... Tiffany, I'm guessing you two will be working together sometime? I bet Hayden would love to see some of what you've been writing." Hayden gave his younger sister a sideways glance and looked at Tiffany, who was sitting directly in front of him. "I couldn't forget about how good you are," he complimented before his father interjected. "We haven't seen you in a few years, Tiff," he said bluntly after clearing his throat with a swig of beer. "Where you been?"

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Although Tiffany didn't intend to make Hayden feel unwelcome, her natural aura seemed to have passed on that message by default. People at the theater joked that her stolid personality was enough to send Polar bears into the sauna. Whatever that meant. New Yorkers had a different breed of humor, she supposed. Or, at least, the New Yorkers at the theater. Hayden's comment about his mother stole a smile from Tiffany's depths easily. At least their humor was still moderately compatible.

Tiffany shuffled to the left as Hayden's body squeezed next to her right. His strong arm was yanking on the fridge's handle before she had any time to protest. More Sprite, Gatorade, and Dr. Pepper were stacked on the shelves. As usual, Mrs. Scott had purchased enough to replenish an army. Hayden leaned forward and grabbed the Gatorade and Dr. Pepper, so Tiff took up the rest of the Sprite and Apple Cider in her arms. Their work was mindless, really. Grab, shoulder, grab, shoulder. Once Tiffany was self-assured none of her items would drop and shatter on the formidable cement floor, she followed Hayden up the steps. His sudden, jerked stop nearly sent her face into him. Luckily, her reflexes had yet to slow. She was able to stop on her toes in the nick of time.

"I'm glad to see you're home again," Hayden told her randomly. Tiff glanced up into his blue eyes. Her bemusement was poorly hidden in her icy eyes. Sentimental jargon had never been her strong suit. Neal taught her everything she needed to know about keeping people out of her head. One of the rules specifically called for privacy, thus confidants were off-limits. A simple "Me too" sounded too overdone. "Maybe you just come home at the wrong times," Tiffany tried instead. A hint of mockery was in her tone, but the shock of being at the Scott household hadn't quite faded. It was one thing to process coming home. Seeing the flesh and blood of her ghosts made coping a challenge.

Tiff gestured with her elbow for Hayden to continue on once the silence between them had grown moments too long. Peyton's light laugh was the first sound they were greeted with, and Mrs. Scott wasted no time shooing each individual into their seats. The men of each household were positioned at the ends. Peyton sat beside Tiffany; Hayden sat directly across. All of the food looked appetizing. Mrs. Scott's cooking never proved to be anything short of magnificent. While the others dug into the main courses, Tiffany piled on some homemade cranberries onto her place. After all, they were her favorite.

Conversation began as soon as everyone's plates were full with first helpings. Tiffany knew someone would break the hungry pause eventually, and she wasn't the least bit surprised when it was her father who had. The very mention of Hayden's role in Justice League easily set Tiffany's guilt rolling again. The trailer for the first season had come on a few days prior. The dramatic, heroic music crackling through her speakers had caught her attention initially. Hayden's made-up face had held her attention to the very end. There were others, too. Dom Brady. Bianca Tanner. These were all A-list names even the most secluded homebody knew well. Tiffany had been wrong about Hayden all along. He was ten steps closer to Neal's expectations than she could ever dream to be. Sorting bills for a low-budget theater didn't look substantial on a screenwriter's resume.

For the most part, Tiff nodded in all the right places. Peyton's little connection between she and her brother almost made her choke. "Maybe," Tiff replied. Her voice was weaker than she meant to lead on. Financial security was on top of her priority list now that her student loans were working against her. With any luck she'd have them paid off by the time she was fifty. As for her writing? Tiffany seriously doubted Hayden would be remotely interested. He could compliment her correct usage of appositive phrases all night long and she'd probably remain unconvinced. Her writing was sacred to her when the rest of the world appeared demonic. No one could understand that intensity. Not even Hayden. It soon occurred to her that tonight was bound to be uncomfortable for her. Opting out of the holidays for seven years came with it's consequences, and answering personal questions happened to be God's pick.

And, naturally, defending her lies had to be at the top of His list. "Where you been?" Mr. Scott asked. Tiffany finished chewing her forkful of salmon and washed the remnants down with apple cider. All six pairs of eyes were trained on her collectively. "You know how it is," she began. "College and everything kept me busy nonstop." She attempted to lighten the mood with a nonchalant shrug. "Anything new?" he pressed. Tiff shook her head. "Not really."

None of her news was anywhere near stimulating. Her tales of papercuts and overdue bills at the theater were tedious enough to put a toddler to sleep. Donovan was completely off limits. College was months behind her. What else was she supposed to mention? The weather? It was a relief when Mrs. Prescott jumped in with her own questions for Peyton and Hayden. She expressed her disappointment about Garrett's absence. Tiffany was surprised to hear that the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy Peyton had been seriously dating was still in the picture. None of Tiffany's own relationships had lasted more than a few months. Then again, she was nowhere near as sunny as the Scott child. Tiffany mostly tuned out the entire conversation until her name was implied in the same breath as Hayden's. "I'm so happy for you," Mrs. Prescott was saying. "It's about time one of you set down some roots," Mrs. Scott added. "I was beginning to fear we wouldn't have any grandchildren." Of course, this was rewarded with laughter from the adults. Tiffany simply shifted in her seat.

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 1007 words
outfit here.
notes holy cow. muse alert?

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 805 notes: My favorite gif idk O: Maybe coming home at all was the wrong thing to do. Hayden wondered that; he loved his mother, but his father was a different story. Judge Scott seemed nice to the outside world. In fact, he was supportive of the community. His money went to charities and local schools. However, Hayden saw a different side of his father. Mr. Scott was controlling, temperamental, stubborn. Two of the three qualities were what Hayden had accidentally taken from the wretch of a dad. Tiffany probably saw how his father treated him, but other than Tiffany, Neal was the only one who understood it. Peyton couldn't even fully grasp the concept that her dad wasn't flawless. She was his girl, his angel, and nothing she did was wrong. Hell, she had earned it by working her ass off to make it into Emory. She was going through graduate school in the south and studying at UVA when she came back for breaks. She was actually going to take that degree and make something of it. Even with the circumstances, the medical degree was imprinted on Hayden's mind. He had all of the knowledge needed to be a successful doctor, but he wasn't an experienced young man. If he continued on this path and refused to keep up with the medical community, he could easily lose all that he worked so hard to maintain. He could see himself as a doctor in the future, but he wondered if that were even possible. Could he do both? Or did he have to choose one? That was where he wished he could be as stubborn as his father; then, he could make a choice to stick with it 'til the end. Instead, he was walking on two paths at once. His little sister could see how it tore him apart. When he first made the decision to move out to LA, she had told him that she believed in him, but she didn't know how it would benefit him in the end. When would the decision become necessary? When would the crossroads occur? What would his dad say when that crossroads truly came into play? Hayden's sympathetic eyes rested on Tiffany as his dad pushed the limits to the table talk that was at his fingertips. Most people in town were curious as to why TIffany Prescott had refused to come home for so long. Hayden could only imagine that her former home seemed like a whole different place. Developments had taken place; old friends were gone while younger kids replaced them at their old high school. It wasn't possible to feel young when they were surrounded by people who were younger and younger. The years were gone behind them. "Tiffany, I hear you had a boyfriend for some time. Is that what I saw on Facebook?" Peyton asked out of politeness. Hayden listened closely, wondering if that had pushed the limits. Wait, was she still dating that asshole? Hayden looked down at his plate. How busy had college been for her? Why couldn't she just come home every once in a while? Hayden returned to see his mom every Christmas. There were some weeks when he didn't get to speak with her, but she was the number one woman in his life (considering he rarely committed to anyone) and he felt as if she deserved a son who cared about her. As the only child in a formerly grief-stricken family, it seemed like Tiffany was responsible for keeping Neal's youth alive. Why couldn't she put aside her guilt or iciness for the holidays? It bothered Hayden. In fact, he was upsetting himself with the thought. He rarely got upset, but just seeing the Prescotts and how happy they were -- genuinely, for the first time in years -- he couldn't understand why their daughter didn't bestow her presence upon them more often. At the mention of Garrett's name, Hayden loosened. He liked Garrett, generally speaking. He approved of him; he respected Peyton and their family, so he had no real beef with the guy. The proposal was a bit necessary at this point, though, considering he and Peyton had met four years ago. Just as the thought crossed his mind, his mother spoke up: "I was beginning to fear we wouldn't have any grandchildren." Hayden took a sip of water and choked a bit as he sucked in a breath. "Excuse me," he guffawed after attempting to stop his reflex to gag uncontrollably. He slid his chair out and walked into the kitchen. He took a cup out from a cupboard and got himself a glass of water from the sink before gulping down a few ounces. The mashed potatoes were lodged into his unsuspecting throat. After one more glass, he felt like he could handle his parents' constant prodding.

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Everyone illustrated Christmas as the happiest time of year. There were multiple songs stating that exact message for God's sakes! Call her the Grinch, but Christmas didn't leave that impression on her. It hadn't been the "best time of the year" for a very long time. The Christmas trees glistening through windowpanes only reminded her of Neal's constant jabs toward tradition. If there was such a thing, he was the antithesis of tradition. There always had to be an upgrade involved, an improvement. Tiffany hadn't taken on that outlook of life, but she certainly didn't view many concepts the same as she once had. In her mind, Christmas was nothing more than another day. And although Tiff was aware of her parent's fervor for extravagant dinners and swapping presents, there wasn't a single force in the universe that made sitting through it any less annoying.

Tiffany's eyes carefully drifted towards Hayden's face throughout the conversations at hand. Just as soon as she was looking, she was already glancing away. That's how it had always been with Hayden. He was more intimidating now more than ever, and Tiff could only blame their conversation at the country club. Her thoughts were only temporarily distracted by the cheerful banter between their families. Then, like a weighty anvil, her guilt dropped right back onto her shoulders. If not guilt, some other unpleasant emotion would resurface. Surprise. Embarrassment. "Tiffany, I hear you had a boyfriend for some time. Is that what I saw on Facebook?" Shit. Depression. It all blurred together sooner or later, and currently, Tiff couldn't decide what concoction was running through her veins. The anger overrode the pain. She wasn't angry at Donovan anymore. He couldn't control his heart's desire. Tiffany deserved to take the fall more than anyone because she believed love could happen to her.

"Had is the key word," Tiff said lightly. Masking her true feelings came effortlessly now, but she soon realized her choice of words were less than satisfactory. The sympathy washing through her company's eyes almost made her sick. "There just aren't enough Garretts in the world, I guess," Tiffany added, poking fun at her childhood friend. Peyton rewarded her with a polite smile, and Tiffany was relieved to find the conversation moving onto Peyton instead. Mrs. Scott and Mrs. Prescott were hopeless romantics. Tiffany used to hear the story about how her parents met whenever someone held a community get-together. After awhile, Tiffany swapped her dad's name with Hayden's and daydreamed from there. Not anymore. He had gone onto date that gorgeous blonde from California. What was her name? Kailyn?

Her absent thoughts continued to swirl noiselessly inside her. Her peachy cheeks were far less noticeable than Hayden's coughs from across the table. Surprise had struck both of them when they were least expecting it. Mr. Scott looked highly amused by their reactions, whereas Mr. Prescott looked concerned. Obviously, the two men had contrasting personalities. Everyone in the room watched him go, Tiffany included. Peyton's face was vaguely visible in her peripheral vision, but for the most part, she had her eyes trained on the dinner table escapee. This was her chance! "I'll go make sure he's okay," Tiffany offered. Evading her mother's incessant pokes and prodding about grandchildren sounded ideal. Peyton looked comfortable enough to survive while the older children went to recompose themselves.

Entering the kitchen, Tiffany spotted Hayden gulping down water from the sink. She smirked. "And they wonder why I never come home for the Holidays," she mused, leaning against the nearest counter. A burst of laughter exploded in the other room. Honestly, Tiffany wasn't sure she wanted to know what caused the commotion. With any luck, their mirth was probably at her expense. "You're not going to die, are you?" she continued, bringing attention to his nearly empty glass of water. "... Because you just so happen to be the only certified doctor around."

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 657 words
outfit here.
notes IALMOSTLOSTTHISPOST.NO.

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 658 notes: <3 Each year, Tiffany had missed the Prescott Christmas party. While she was absent, her parents tried to fill their hearts with Christmas cheer. On Christmas Eve, it seemed as if the whole town of Chantilly would gather in the Prescott household. Gifts were exchanged and stories told. Adults would have glasses of wine and children would have sweets. Hayden could remember wondering, no matter what, why Tiffany couldn't come home for just a night and see how happy the Prescotts were around other people. He could tell that they needed someone to talk to, someone who understand that they felt like the only people who hadn't forgotten about their late son. Hayden remembered, but he could count on his hands the instances when he had spoken to them about the matter. It was hard to talk about someone who was still a teenager in their memories; Hayden could only imagine how taxing it was to see that Hayden was alive and well while their son was dead and buried. At some points, he felt her eyes on him, but he figured they were the same piercing blue ones that had judged him so harshly back in LA. Forgiving her wasn't a question; Tiffany would always be near and dear to him in ways that he couldn't describe. Maybe she felt guilty, but he wasn't upset with her by any means. If anything, he just didn't want to discuss what the two of them knew about Neal's death. They shared an incredibly dark secret that could never see the light. It haunted Hayden in his sleep and he felt like it affected Tiffany the same way. When he looked at her, he knew that was true. Hayden's neck snapped up when he heard the venom in Tiffany's voice. It seemed like he was the only one who could hear the lost hope in her voice. Had a boyfriend. "He was an a--" Catching himself, he took a pause. Hayden cleared his throat. "He didn't deserve you anyway. I mean, you're a Princeton graduate. Don't you have a resume for guys you date?" He wasn't being smooth at all, which was out of character. The two men and Mrs. Prescott laughed, but Peyton turned her head and looked at him oddly while his mother kept her eyes trained on Tiffany. Hayden knew she didn't want to talk about it, but he had a feeling that she was extremely hurt by the situation. He still remembered the romantic Tiffany, the one who used to watch Disney and sing about true love. He knew that she was still in there somewhere, but she was trying to protect herself with a fortress of cold comments and steel glares. None of it fazed him. When she came to check on him, he nearly jumped out of his khaki pants. He hadn't expected her to escape as well, but he was sure that talking about relationships for much longer would drive her out of her mind. "You should start coming home more often." Hayden offered a smile before setting the cup down on the counter. "No, I don't plan on dying today," he replied, but the smile turned into a line on his face as the thought of Neal's death popped into his miind. Nothing he did allowed him to escape it, and he knew that she would realize it as well. "I'm not doctor. Just a graduate who decided to... move out to Hollywood... and destroy everything his dad ever worked for." He chuckled bitterly, leaning on the counter and listening to the sound of the laughter in the adjoining room. Bravely, he reached out and touched the hair by her shoulder. He turned his head, observing her. "Your hair looks different," he told her. "I guess you look different in general. But I like what you did to your hair." He grinned softly at her, expecting her to react with an insult.

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Tiffany always had something to say. Ninety-nine percent of the time, wit was interlaced with her answers. This method was only one of the many defense mechanisms she had cultivated over the years, though many argued it's one of her most annoying as well. Saying she had a boyfriend past-tense was proof of the fact. Apparently the crowd before her had forgotten her caustic humor because they all stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Hayden was a brave tribute for stepping up to stand behind her. She honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been on her side for everything. After Neal's death, he slowly drifted away like the rest of her friends. Except he actually went somewhere new and left Tiffany to fend off their secret solo. Still, she wondered what he wanted to say before he modified his speech. How in the world could Hayden judge Donovan's character by the three or four strings of dialogue they shared?

Whatever the reason, Tiffany was passed caring. His comment about resumes made her and and others smile. Once again Tiffany Prescott was the object of everyone's laughter. Just like old times. She straightened her back against the backboard and shrugged. "That sounds like a lot of paperwork," she pointed out, earning a smile from Peyton. Quite frankly, her "business" would go under if she relied on resumes to score her any relationship. One icy look was enough to send the most macho of men back to their mother's basements. Any other obstructions sent her chances of finding someone sinking faster than the Titanic. Her natural frost seemed to be thawing, however. Brief glimpses of the outgoing version everyone loved were flashing in and out of focus. The socially awkward preteen who had all but created a shrine for Hayden Scott stealthily crept forward. Was Hayden flirting with her? No, he couldn't be.

Regardless, Tiff followed him into the kitchen on her own. Mrs. Scott's conspicuous pushes weren't necessary for Tiffany to own up to the man she previously offended. He looked relatively surprised to find her there, too. Giving him a scare hadn't been her intention. She actually came to do the exact opposite. Hayden was the only one in the house who probably felt remotely the same about the future as she did. To her, the future was unpredictable and uncharted. Loneliness was the single most constant theme in her life, and she was fine with that. No one should feel obligated to keep her around. Not her parents. Not the Scotts. Not even Hayden. Sometimes she excused her absence during the holidays as a blessing for those involved. Her personality tended to be unbearably pessimistic. Hayden knew better than anyone else, so his suggestion struck her as odd. Why would he want her to come home more often? He was rarely here, either.

"I don't know," she replied. "I come home in February and again in July..." She allowed Hayden to interpret why. She hadn't yet missed Neal's birthday, even if it warranted missing her classes at Princeton for one day. July's itinerary varied. A weekend was the standard amount she lingered in Chantilly. Other times Mrs. Prescott coaxed her into staying longer. The memories segued nicely into the next topic discussed. Dying. Honestly, Tiffany didn't purposely mention dismal topics. Her brain was programmed to speak them no matter what occasion. The line that formed Hayden's lips forced her to catch her mistake. Neal. Death. The associations were never-ending. She wondered if she'd ever escape the grave she dug for herself ten years ago.

"I'm sorry. That was a bad joke," she mumbled, frowning deeply. Lines crisscrossed against her forehead as she did so. When she finally glanced back at Hayden, he was barely a foot away. His comment about his father was probably the most familiar words she had heard him say since their frazzled reunion. Tiffany would be lying if she said she didn't miss the rebellious dreamer Hayden had been notorious for. She tried to lighten the mood with another joke. "Hey, maybe you can guest-star on The Doctor or something," she tried. "That's technically dipping your foot into the medical community. And if all else fails, there's always a high demand for sexy doctors in soap operas." For that moment in time, she almost thought things could be normal.

And then he had to touch her hair. Tiffany couldn't comprehend what he was doing initially. His hand was suddenly reaching out to touch her hair? Who did that? Especially on their terms. Fortunately, flattery worked in his favor. Just this once, she thought. Next time he wouldn't be so lucky. Her own hand reached up to touch her short locks. It was definitely a makeover from the long, curly hair she used to sport back in high school. He wasn't the first to comment on the change of style, and she hoped he wasn't expecting a compliment in return. She wasn't that easy. "Obviously it's been too long," she remarked instead. Her hands (playfully) pushed him back a couple steps. "Haven't you ever heard of respecting someone's personal space?" She rolled her eyes, her smile intensifying.

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 868 words
outfit here.
notes I think i like this one better, actually. thanks firefox?

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 963 notes: Excuse le muse. Hayden pushed from his mind the fact that he had left Tiffany's side. He was the kind of person with a capacity for self-denial; his integrity was sub-par at best, as honor had never been his calling. It wasn't that he lacked academic integrity, but he could lie to himself like he could lie to a loan shark. He never liked facing the truth in his mind. He didn't enjoy confrontation. He liked allowing things to sail past him easily. He would turn the other way to look at the sunset, attempting to ignore the shark in the water. This was no different. If anyone remembered his worst transgressions, it was Tiffany. Others had forgottena bout him over the years, and that included the incident where he dipped out of Chantilly without looking back. For a year, he was out of contact almost completely. At the time, Virginia Tech had been the perfect distraction. Chantilly was a magnet, however, and after Tiffany left, he came to see the parents who hated and supported him at the same time. Hayden grinned back at the girl's witty comment. "I guess that's why you didn't end up in law school," he replied boldly. It wasn't an insult, but more of a compliment. It was left with an open end for her to interpret, however, which was the only way his comments could actually get to her. Though he was more of a math and science person -- a genius, in fact -- he could understand wording and lawyering on a basic level. He knew that Tiffany could argue her way out of a murder case if she wanted to -- hell, she already had, if they were being honest. The table around them laughed once again, unaccustomed to their mature banter. They had always been like siblings as children, fighting over toys or what channel to watch. Once Hayden turned nine or so, however, he stopped. He couldn't remember why, but she was no longer the kind of person he wanted to bully. Maybe boys did mature past a point, and his mom was pleasantly surprised that he was almost flirtatious in his adulthood. Her eyes stayed glued to Tiffany's face while Hayden took another bite of his food. Each response was like a challenge for Tiffany. It was nice to put birds in the air for her to shoot down. If she wanted to belittle him, it entertained him. If she didn't, it intrigued him. Hayden couldn't imagine being Tiffany: a Princeton graduate, she was still alone in her fight, unable to find a steady and stable career to rest her eyes on. It wasn't up to her; he knew she was trying to make it, but it wasn't working exactly. In a way, that was his own choice, this life; he could have been a successful neurosurgeon, but he chose to cake himself in make-up and dress like a superhero instead. It was unimaginable, what others would give for either occupation, and for Hayden, it was like cutting off his right or left arm. He felt like he could never be truly happy; the glass was always half-empty and half-full. All he could hope was that he would never end up like his parents; his worst nightmare was living a mundane life in the suburbs. That would make him just like his father. "You should probably come more often for Christmas. It's a big deal," he said. It sounded like he was lecturing her, and maybe he was. Christmas was something that shouldn't be missed. Schools always gave people a break for the holidays, and missing that time with family was detrimental. "It's okay," Hayden shrugged when she apologized. They both knew the drill when they got near a touchy subject: run the other way as quickly as possible. The last thing they were going to talk about was how Neal died and how everyone was slowly forgetting. It would make Hayden irate, and he didn't want to punch a third hole in his bedroom door. He doubted his mother would like another tantrum on his part; he had done his share immediately after losing Neal. Hayden grinned and barely contained a laugh. "I could be a good soap opera doctor. Except there is no good acting in soap operas." He played along before realizing what she said. He made direct eye contact with her and cocked his head to the left. "Did you just call me sexy?" There used to be a rumor that Tiffany Prescott had a crush on Hayden, but those days were a decade behind them. When he saw her at the country club, that was a thought that had crossed his mind. Why did it matter? Maybe they both knew it mattered. Their parents wanted them to give it a shot; Hayden's mother had gotten close to saying it directly. Tiffany was bad news for him, though, and he was bad news for her. They were too dark on the inside, too messed up to fall in love functionally. He knew that just as well as she did. When she pulled away, he thought she was serious, but he saw the blush on her face and allowed his own smile to grow. Before he could think of another clever comment, Peyton's voice broke the silent gaze shared between them. "Glad to see you're alive, Hay Bail!" she vocalized playfully. The childhood nickname was terribly cheesy, but it still made the man smile. His hands were now by his side, pretending like they hadn't been touching Tiffany's soft golden hair. "When is Gary getting here?" he asked, shifting the subject. He knew she hated the nickname that he ahd for her future husband.

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Tiffany bet her hat that she wasn't the only one who noticed the limitations of their conversation. Everyone apart from Hayden seemed to be eavesdropping. Personally, Tiffany didn't mind. Her entire freshman year had been devoted to Mrs. Prescott lurking on the land line. What was a few extra ears in a conversation meant for everyone, anyways? Besides, Tiffany was enjoying the easy flow of words between she and Hayden. Mrs. Scott appeared to enjoy their banter, too. Although the years were carved into her features, the pleasant smile she wore looked the same. Tiffany stored the memory away in a mental filing cabinet. She'd refer back to the smiling image of Mrs. Scott when she was alone in New York City. The littlest reminders of her life before Neal's tragedy tended to elevate her mood, most times only for a fleeting moment.

"I guess that's why you didn't end up in law school," Hayden remarked. Tiffany honestly didn't know how to reply. Her intuition said Hayden hadn't meant to undermine her. Paperwork really was a bore. How could she possibly step into a career that required her to defend guilty criminals? There was no doubt in her mind that she could. After all, fate managed to weasel her out of Neal's murder, but the little dignity she had left couldn't be wasted on a dishonorable career. Lawyers received the death sentence in the eyes of the people if the wrong case was picked up and won. Tiffany had zero desire to subject herself to that. Killing her brother came with enough baggage as it was. So, realizing she had grown eerily quiet, Tiffany shrugged. "I'd probably be fired for mouthing off to the judge whether I liked all that work or not," Tiff pointed out. Writing was her perfect fit; no one was authorized to tell her what she couldn't write.

By now, Tiffany expected the table to tune out of their ongoing exchange. Hopeful dreaming, right? Five sets of eyes were darting back and forth between the two. Tiff found their intrigued expressions violating. Hayden didn't seem fazed. Henceforth, stealing away into the kitchen lifted the pressure Tiffany was under. Talking to Hayden alone was almost comforting. Sure, she had to censor basically every word she said, but, in general, her words continued to tumble out of her mouth as they had at the table. Lectures about the importance of Christmas were slightly better than weighing the possibility she'd never give her parents the grandchildren they craved; however, by no means did his insistence change her mind. Christmas was strictly off limits. Tiffany decided to hold her tongue rather than blurt words she'd later regret. Submission was one of the techniques her therapist taught her way back when. A Christmas card thanking that old hag would definitely be in order. Tiff thought of the gesture as her one good deed for the year, obviously influenced by some concoction of holiday cheer.

Avoiding a spastic meltdown was a lot easier now. Her affections for Hayden no longer contaminated her good judgement, nor did the butterflies swell when he questioned her word choice. "Well, you'd fit right in then, wouldn't you?" she teased, raising her eyebrows accordingly. Battles were finally ending in her favor. Ten years ago, that wouldn't have been the case, so Tiffany had every right to bask in her new-found glory. She nearly snorted when he asked her if she called him sexy. "Oh, please, that's just the stereotype," she reminded him. But, to answer his question, yes, she called him sexy. The years apart had been kind to him. His sparkling blue eyes were every speckle as gorgeous as they had been. Tiffany didn't blame herself for falling heels over head for this boy during high school, especially if he maintained the abs she remembered so clearly... Shit. She narrowed her eyes. There was no way in hell Hayden was breaking her blockade with one charming smile.

As if on cue, Peyton came bounding into the room to interrupt their silent stare-down. Hayden was the first to tear his eyes away, so Tiffany mentally crowned herself the winner. The nickname "hay bail" had been around since they were children, and Tiff found herself smiling at the sound of Peyton actually saying it after all this time. The era of playful banter was over. Or so she thought. Garrett's name was once more in the conversation, and Tiffany distinctly heard Peyton inform everyone he'd be heading over after work. Work? On Christmas? Secretly, Tiffany stored away that excuse for next year. Hopefully then she'd be in some faraway place like Africa without internet or cell service to be pestered by.

"Our food's probably cold, hay bail," Tiffany pointed out. She left Hayden behind in the kitchen and returned to her seat. Plates were empty, stomachs were full, and dessert was probably on more than one mind. Had she and Hayden been lollygagging in the kitchen for that long? One look at Mrs. Prescott's face said yes. Shit, shit, shit. "Hayden, why don't you and Tiffany grab the pies? I think we forgot them in the car." Shit. Tiffany gave her mother a look, one notoriously injected with lethal venom. This was the second time tonight! "I think I can manage to grab them on my own," she snapped, already heading straight towards the door. She knew they'd talk about her while she was missing. They always did. Sooner or later they'd realize her flame for Hayden was gone. Two wrongs together rarely made things right.

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 934 words
outfit here.
notes just as long as you excuse mine! <3

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 967 notes: Almost done! o: Tiffany was certainly one of the most intelligent people whom Hayden had ever met. She was misunderstood on some levels, though, mostly because she didn't talk about her smarts to anyone who walked by. She was usually cold as a winter breeze. Her wit was complicated and wordy, but it was beautiful and unique. Hayden appreciated it, but he knew that most people probably didn't. She was capable of making it big in law school, though, and those people were her kind. They were intellectual and unusually talented with twisting words. Mr. Scott caught their wit, considering he actually worked in law, and cut in. "It wouldn't take much convincing for me to listen to you. You're a force to be reckoned with, Miss Tiffany," he joked. He and Mr. Prescott laughed ferociously while Hayden kept his eyes on trained on hers. He looked away after a few moments, wondering what the odd magnetism between them could be attributed to. Maybe it was because she had convinced the courtroom of something: that Neal's death hadn't been accidental. Hayden was the only one who knew that much. When he stood in front of her and it was just the two of them, Hayden felt like the words he should be saying were reaching out to her. He knew she had every right to be upset for him for leaving her side after her brother died a horrific death. Could he rewind ten years and beg for her forgiveness? He could tell that he was one of the most prominent influences in her life -- or he could have been. Had he remained a great part of her life, maybe she wouldn't be so closed in and cold. Instead of greeting her with giddy smiles and shy hugs, she responded to him with rough rebuttals and challenging smirks. He sucked in a mocking gasp when she insinuated that he was a bad actor. Oddly enough, he felt like he didn't have to pretend that he was hurt; her opinion actually carried great weight to him, but he would never admit it. He grinned down at her, knowing that she didn't mean it; Tiffany used to love his and Neal's improv acts in drama class. She couldn't deny that, even now. Even when she deflected the compliment she had accidentally given to Hayden, he could tell that she was shying away. He certainly wasn't arrogant, however, and didn't let it get to him. He was confident and flirtatious, but he didn't spin every compliment into another one. He just took it in for a moment and rolled his eyes at her. "I guess I'll have to compete with their washboard abs, then," he replied with a smirk. He actually had to work diligently to keep his body fit enough to be Superman. If that wasn't a challenge, he had no idea what could be. His diet was drastically different and his work-out routine was intense. He knew that he would regret dining with his family for the holidays when he came back. It didn't shock Hayden when Tiffany piggybacked on Peyton's pokes and prods. He smiled and followed her into the dining room once again, but everyone seemed to be finished with the main course. He hadn't realizing how much time had passed since he and Tiffany made their exit. He looked around and his mom looked like she was blushing at him. He raised an eyebrow before a move was made by Tiffany's mother. Hayden turned his head to the side. They left the pies in the car? "Oh, no problem, Mrs. --" "I think I can manage to grab them on my own," Tiffany told her mother coldly. Hayden frowned slightly, returning to the seat that he had risen from in order to help the lady. The moment she was gone from the room, a silence settled over them that made Hayden feel uncomfortable. Both of the women had their eyes down while Peyton stared out the window, searching for Garrett's car. The two fathers were looking at their beer glasses in a tipsy haze. "Will you be taking Tiffany to see the Christmas lights, Peyton? I bet Hayden and Garrett wouldn't mind if the guest tagged along." Mr. Prescott smiled at Peyton, but his intentions were obvious to the usually oblivious Hayden. "Sounds like a great idea!" she gushed back. Hayden kept his expression blank. The Christmas lights tradition was typical: the family piled into a car to go through a monotonous strip of Christmas lights on the outskirts of DC. In recent years, it had become an option. As adults, Hayden and Peyton had the option of going on their own or with significant others. Hayden had taken a girl from Virginia Tech -- his first girlfriend there -- to see the lights, but other than that, he didn't bring anyone along. Garrett was now a part of the tradition, so the plan was to go as a trio. Now that Tiffany was invited, there would be no refusing. He looked down at the tablecloth until Tiffany came back. He made his way to the kitchen to grab a knife for the pie. He carried out plates and set them on the table. When Tiffany reached for the knife, Hayden intercepted her hand, where they touched. "I can cut," he offered firmly. For some reason, he didn't want Tiffany touching any form of weaponry. Out of paranoia, he didn't want her to be anywhere near anything dangerous. He proceeded to help with the cutting while she gave out the plates.

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JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

Perhaps in another time and another place Tiffany Prescott would have enjoyed the Scott family's empty compliments more. The Lord only knew how hungry her teenage self had been for compliments. Her fragile ego was cultivated by the constant lack of interest Hayden showed, though he wasn't solely to blame. There were others boys, too. Neal marked anyone who dared make a move on his baby sister. His death failed to liberate her. In fact, it was more symbolic of a stake through her love life's chances. All the men prowling about the streets of New York weren't worth half Neal's standards, and there was no way in hell Tiffany was marrying someone her brother disproved of. Now that she weighed the possibilities, she imagined Neal forcing her into celibacy. Statistics showed nuns were on the decline. The world had a show dedicated to the teenage mother population of America. Alas, society, not simply religious devotion, was on the decline, though Tiffany argued that the two occurrences weren't interrelated. Her parents most likely begged to differ.

She flung a half-hearted but polite smile towards Mr. Scott. The rest of the table seemed pleased with his joke. Tiffany didn't need to be reminded of her icy attitude. Frost practically fogged the room every time she opened her mouth to speak. If anything, the prosecutor would be in the fetal position, struck by hypothermia, by the end of a case. The very thought was almost endearing to Tiff. Her long-since pessimistic views of people and herself fit nicely with the talk of the table. One of her Princeton professors always said to keep her tongue at its sharpest; after all, one's words were their greatest weapons. Flashing back to the weeks following Neal's death, she had stood up in front of the stands, testified against the very possibility her brother could be murdered. No one wanted to believe Neal was killed, yet a similar majority refused to believe he was unhappy. Neal wasn't the kind of kid who worshiped death unless it meant succeeding the big man upstairs. But any devout Christian knew that was absent in the scripture and therefore impossible.

Among Hayden, Neal, and Neal's specific plan for her future, religion was another subject that managed to plague her mind whenever she was in her youth's setting. She always attributed her divine thoughts to the hometown feeling associated to Chantilly. Growing up had been all-american, true to every Southern tale known to man. Each Sunday, the Prescott family attended morning mass. Then, they congregated to have a homestyle family meal. Mrs. Prescott originated in Tennessee. Bringing her culture up from the bible belt was inevitable, and Tiffany's mind and soul had been eternally affected by it. Why did she bother? She was damned anyways. Her only comfort was a bit maniacal; if she was meant for hell, she was consoled knowing she wasn't going alone. Hayden deserved her fate just as much, if not more. Standing in front of him now, joking around about his good looks, felt wrong.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, dismissively. The brief interlude from her ice age had ended; Tiffany was back and frostier than ever. It was inconvenient how her mood changed like the direction of the wind. Her old therapist had pushed to diagnose her with bipolar disorder. When that came back negative, she pushed for other tests with mood swings as symptoms. None of them were true. In the end, her only explanation was five words and well-said: you're a cold hard bitch. Tiffany had waited for those words since their very first session, and though she expected the words to ring victoriously, she soon found out the truth only stung worst than any bee sting. Going out to the car after snapping at her mother felt no different. Dutifully, Tiff grabbed the pies, walked inside, and handed over the knife when Hayden grabbed for it. The knife was better left in stable hands, anyways.

tagged Hayden/Mrs. Scott/Mr. Scott/Mrs. Prescott/Mr. Prescott/Peyton
words 664 words
outfit here.
notes kinda depressing >_> close it? (:

LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] tagged: char as tiffany prescott words: 701 notes: Done! While Tiffany had defended the case and was burned with the therapy sessions that ensued, Hayden had gotten away from the flames. With a father who was the judge and watchman of the town, Hayden had nothing to worry about, even if he were a convict. He knew how angry Tiffany must have been when he left her to fend for herself. Hayden, even with his intelligence, had an incredible skill of denying himself the guilt and the self-hatred. He chose oblivion over all; he threw the bad memories into a pile in the deepest parts of his temporal lobe. He would never have to think all too deeply, reason through it, or talk about it. On the other side of the matter, Tiffany was hiding the anger -- or she had forgiven him. He doubted that, though, because when he thought about it, he certainly wasn't forgiving himself. Maybe that's why he visited Neal so often and talked about Tiffany's whereabouts. Hayden was to be her new guardian. Now that Neal was gone, who else was going to do it? He wasn't skilled. He wasn't a particularly dependable guardian, and he was too selfish to do it effectively. Tiffany and Hayden rarely saw each other, partially because she didn't seem to desire his presence at the least and because he was hesitant to contact her. He sent her holiday text messages out of courtesy, but none of it proved that they had a strong friendship. She rarely responded kindly, if at all. Tiffany wasn't the bubbly teenager he had known. She was different: colder, quieter, angrier. He was angry, too. Maybe angry people just didn't go well together. On top of that, Hayden and Tiffany were missing the most important part of a bond: proximity. Psychologically speaking, it was the strongest component that brought two people together. When she was halfway across the country, Hayden couldn't spend time with her, even if he wanted to. When he was away from her, she rarely crossed his mind. It only took a glance across the room to realize that she would probably be on his mind rather often if he got to see those eyes on a regular basis. Her next words pulled the warm air right out of his home. He looked at her face and realized that she had closed the door. A frown crossed his face when their hands touched. Cold. Literally and sincerely cold. They finally took their seats once again and the table was quiet as they bit into their dessert. The red apple pie looked like a bloody mess on his plate, which he ended up leaving filled. He had lost his appetite, and before he knew it, it was time for the Prescotts to make their leave. "It was so nice to see you again," he told Mr. and Mrs. Prescott. The smaller woman gave him a hearty hug. "You too, Hayden. You just get handsomer every day. It's a wonder why you don't bring a pretty girl home." He chuckled a bit and pulled away before shaking Mr. Prescott's hand. A drunk blush was evident on his cheeks. Mr. Scott patted Hayden on the shoulder as they shut the front door and Hayden turned around to face him. Tiffany was gone. "My boy," the man said, sighing, before slumping and walking away to retire to the living room couch. "Hayden, can you help me with the rest of the dishes?" she asked. He came to her and began rinsing the plates and bowls in the sink. "Mom," he began, "What do you want for Christmas?" The woman looked down at the plate she was drying. "I don't know, Hay. I think I just want us to be together. I think being older makes me want less." It was cliché, but he took it. "I guess that means you want a nice car?" he joked. Nice cars never really fixed things, and Hayden knew that. Nice cars and big houses didn't make him happy. Those could be bought and sold and traded. Neal once wanted those things -- and a pretty girlfriend. Lives, however, couldn't be swapped and returned. A life was a one-time shot.

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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