Carcel Evander Dawson

I've been locked inside my apartment for what feels like an eternity. Foundation week at the university has put classes on hold, and everyone else seems to be out there, soaking up the festivities. Meanwhile, I've barely stepped out, except for that mandatory appearance on the first day at Eldonbury. Crue tried to convince me to blow off steam with some sport, but honestly, I'd rather dive headfirst into this project. Sports can wait; this work can't.

But the relentless grind of paper after paper has taken its toll. My body aches for a break, my mind drifts, and all I can think about is how tequila taste right now, and then I lost all focused I have, its slipping further away with every passing hour. It's clear , that I need to step away, for a bit.

I decided to call the gang for a drink, a rare move for me. Even invited Jordan, who, much to my surprise, accepted immediately. He seemed almost relieved, as if my decision to drink was some kind of victory for him. His logic was twisted, but I'm too desperate for a distraction to care.

Before they arrived, I set about tidying my workspace, hiding away every important document. With Ace coming over, there's no telling how wild things might get. The last thing I need is for some critical paper to get soaked in booze or lost in the chaos.

With the desk cleared, I turned to the kitchen. It's their first time visiting, and I've got a reputation to maintain. A meal isn't just about food; it's about showing them I'm in control that I've got it all together- even if that's far from the truth. The kitchen filled with the scent of the dishes I prepared, and hopefully this taste better than it looks.

After cooking, I took a moment to clean myself up, straightening my clothes, making sure every detail was in place. The final touch was opening the balcony doors, letting the city skyline and the gleaming Jacuzzi take center stage. The view is something to be admired-just like everything else here. The atmosphere was perfect, or as close to perfect as I could get it.

Then it was time for the drinks. I handed the responsibility over to Jordan, hoping he'd keep things under control. But when he arrived, the situation immediately spiraled. He showed up with an armful of paper bags, dropping them on the table with a thud. One by one, he pulled out bottle after bottle-twelve in total, an absurd amount for a simple gathering.

Fuck my life.

"That's definitely too much," I said, casting a skeptical glance at the assortment of alcohol.

Jordan just shrugged, as casual as ever. "It's alright," he replied, sliding seven bottles into a drawer for safekeeping. "It's not like this will be the last time you'll drink."

It was oddly comforting to have invited Jordan. My friends already knew him, so it wouldn't be awkward to have everyone in the same room. The first to arrive was Crue, which surprised me-I expected him to be too worn out from a day of playing sports.

"Wow, this place is nice," Crue remarked, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of admiration and envy. "Should I move in?"

"You could," I replied, handing him the cue stick for the billiards. "But the rent would be higher."

"Why?"

"Because you'd be sleeping with me," I added with a playful wink.

"That's some gay shit," he paused for effect, then smirked, "but I like it." He winked back.

Jordan joined us for a game of pool, and as the balls clicked and clacked across the table, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe it wasn't alcohol I craved after all-maybe it was just the company. There's something grounding about being surrounded by familiar faces, the kind that doesn't demand anything from you except to be yourself.

The three of us started drinking, sharing stories, and catching up. Crue and Jordan devoured almost everything I cooked, leaving just a few scraps on the plates. It was satisfying to see them enjoy it.

Just as we were settling into the rhythm of the night, Ace burst through the door, loud and brash as always.

"My Carcel, how I've missed you!" he declared, pulling me into a tight embrace. I quickly pulled away, holding him at arm's length.

"First of all, what the hell happened to you?" I asked, eyeing him with disgust. "And second, why do you smell like a fucking trash heap?"

He looked like he'd been dragged through hell-or at least through several muddy fields. His clothes were a mess, and there was a distinct odor clinging to him, something between sweat and stale air.

"I came straight from school. Played football," he said casually, as if it explained everything. Before I could respond, he turned to Jordan. "Brother Jordan, it's been a while!" He moved in for a hug, but Jordan dodged him with practiced ease, leaving Ace hugging air.

"Let me shower," Ace said, but it wasn't a request-it was more of an order, one that brooked no argument.

I sighed and pointed Ace toward the shower, tossing him a set of my clothes. They'd be a bit big on him, but he'll live. As his shower started running, the rest of us resumed our game, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. Each sip of alcohol seemed to ease the tension in my shoulders, melting away the stress that had been weighing me down. I'd been thinking about cutting back on drinking, but nights like this made me realize how much I needed it.

A few minutes later, Ace emerged from the shower, towel-drying his hair. "Faye said they're almost here," he mentioned casually, but his words jolted me back into looking at him.

If Faye's coming, then Ceil is definitely fucking coming too.

"Did you invite them?" I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

"No, I just mentioned I was coming over here. I thought you invited them," Ace replied, genuinely confused.

Damn it. This has Mom written all over it. Now, I have no choice but to let them in.

I forced a smile, though my mood had taken a hit. "No, it's alright," I said, though the enthusiasm in my voice had noticeably waned. As I processed the unexpected news, I feel more and more irritated. The night had been going smoothly-almost too smoothly-and now this.

I wasn't mistaken-Ceil arrived with Faye and Jade, their arms loaded with even more food and booze. Ceil's usual arrogant demeanor was still in full force as she sauntered into the kitchen where I was washing the dishes.

"So, skipping school just so you can wash your own dishes now?" she remarked, her tone laced with the same haughty attitude I'd come to expect from her.

I smirked, not missing a beat. I'd grown accustomed to her sharp tongue. "Don't you like it when your husband washes the dishes for you?" I asked, the words dripping with playful sarcasm. I knew exactly how to push her buttons.

She paused for a moment, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I like to serve my husband," she replied, her voice softer, almost shy. but I wasn't about to let it slide without a retort.

"Too bad I'm not going to be your husband," I said casually, drying my hands and leaving her in the kitchen with those words hanging in the air.

Am I being too harsh? Fuck yeah.

I poured myself another drink, feeling the warmth of the alcohol as it spread through my veins, then rejoined the others at the pool table. Ceil followed closely behind, she looked calm, she must not have taken my remark to heart since she wasn't mad.

"Hey, Carcel, how about a one-on-one? Loser has to do whatever the winner says," Ace threw a challenge at me; I've never seen him so confident before. Now I'm feeling guilty about smashing it into pieces.

I smirked "Let's do it. Brace yourself, my dear cousin, because I'm going to ask you to buy a couple of stocks in our company when you lose," I said, a playful threat in my tone.

We racked the balls and started the game. The first few shots were clean and precise-typical of me. I sank the first ball with ease, then the second, feeling the familiar satisfaction of control. But as the game wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the sharpness of my focus began to blur. Each sip of alcohol dulled my reflexes, made my shots a little less certain.

Ace, on the other hand, seemed to grow more confident with each passing round. He watched my every move, calculating, waiting for the moment when my confidence would slip just enough for him to strike. And it did. The alcohol was clearly working, slowing my reactions and clouding my judgment.

Fuck.

By the time we were halfway through the game, the edge I'd started with had completely dulled. My shots were off, the angles wrong, the power behind them uneven. Ace took full advantage, clearing the table with precision that left me no room to recover. With each ball he pocketed, I could feel my chances slipping away, and with them.

Finally, with a smooth, controlled shot, Ace sank the eight ball, ending the game. I stood there, the cue stick feeling heavier in my hand than it had at the start, the realization of my defeat settling in.

"Ah, fuck it," I cursed under my breath, slamming the cue stick down on the table. The rest of them erupted in laughter, the sound only deepening my frustration. Damn it, I shouldn't have chugged down so much alcohol. My vision blurred at the edges, and the room swayed slightly as I leaned against the table for support.

"Seems like the God of luck is not on your side tonight, my dear Carcel," Ace teased, his grin widening as he reveled in his victory. I felt a flicker of annoyance but quickly smothered it. Should I ask for another round? I think that's a bad idea. There was no way I could redeem myself in this state; my chances would only get worse.

"So, as for my request..." Ace began, his tone carrying mischief that made my instincts bristle. "Participate in this!" He pulled out his phone and flashed the screen in front of us.

The app read, Art Connections.

"What the fuck is that? It sounds lame," I muttered, my voice dripping with skepticism as I scrolled through the app. The screen was filled with random images-paintings, photographs, pieces of writing. None of it made sense to me, just a chaotic jumble of creativity that seemed pointless.

Ace crossed his arms, clearly unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. "It went viral at school today," he explained, his tone implying that this should somehow impress me.

"Oh, is that Galini's project with the scholars?" Jade piped up, her eyes lighting up with interest. She always got enthusiastic about anything involving the scholar students, a side of her that was both admirable and occasionally grating.

I continued scrolling through the app, trying to make sense of it. It was all art pieces, nothing that seemed worth my time. The more I looked, the more my confusion grew. "What do you even want me to do with this?" I asked Ace in frustration.

"Simple," Ace said, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. He clasped his hands together like a madman. "I want you to crash the system by uploading a photo of yourself."

Oh hell, fucking no.

My mind raced, searching for a way to dodge this ridiculous demand. Before I could come up with something, Ciel suddenly interjected, her voice sharp and angry. "No!" The room fell silent, and everyone turned to look at her. A small laugh escaped me. So this is what it takes to crack the mask she always wears. Interesting.

"Fine," I said, keeping my tone casual, as if her outburst hadn't fazed me. "But not my face." I directed my gaze back to Ace, who was already shaking his head.

"It has to be you!" Ace insisted, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing.

"I know dumbass," I replied, pausing just long enough to make him wonder what I was up to. "But you didn't say it had to be my face. I'll upload a picture of my hand. That should be enough to shut down the system." I spoke with confidence, knowing that if the influx of participants won't crash the system once they heard I was involved, Ciel's wrath just might.

"You arrogant little freak," Ace said, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "How sure are you?"

"Well, wanna bet again?" I shot back, my expression serious now, challenging him to test me.

"Enough!" Crue interrupted, stepping between us before things could escalate further. "Just do it already. Let's see if you're really going to participate."

"That's the problem," I admitted, tossing the phone to Ace in frustration. "I don't understand this fucking app."

"Let me help you," Jade offered, her enthusiasm palpable . "You need to download the app first," she explained, quickly navigating through the process. I handed her my phone without a second thought, letting her handle it while the rest of us gathered around to watch-except for Ciel, who kept her distance.

When the app was finally installed, Jade set up my profile. "It needs your phone number so you can participate," she explained, her fingers poised over the screen.

"What? No!" I said, my voice rising in protest. The idea of giving out my number made me uncomfortable.

"But the number won't be disclosed publicly," Jade reassured me, her tone calm and patient.

"Fuck, alright," I sighed, resigning myself. I took the phone and typed in my number, each digit feeling like another step down to this absurd path.

+1456 444-543-0000

Jade took the phone back, finishing up the profile. "It's all set. You just need to upload your art piece."

"Great, now let's take a fucking picture of your hand," Crue exclaimed, sounding more amused by the situation than anyone else in the room.

The next few minutes were filled with the sound of laughter and crude jokes as these lunatics took dozens of photos of my hand, making all sorts of dirty remarks that made me want to throttle them. After what felt like an eternity, we finally settled on one picture.

Note: This image is not my own and is used solely for inspiration purposes. All credit goes to the original owner.

"You need to put a caption on it," Jade said, holding the phone out to me.

"Put 'the hands of God,'" Ace suggested, making me cringe at the thought.

"No, put 'I'll fucking choke you,'" Crue said, grinning like he was already imagining it.

"Just put '12 dollars per like,'" Jordan chimed in, his contribution earning him a glare from me.

I rubbed my temples in frustration, feeling the weight of their absurd suggestions pressing down on me. Jade, sensing my exasperation, paused before offering her own idea. "I'll just put... 'Veins trace the path of thoughts unspoken.'"

"What the hell?" Ace muttered, clearly unimpressed by the poetic touch.

"No, go with that," I said, surprising even myself with how much I preferred Jade's suggestion. It sounded more normal-more grounded-than the others.

"Okay," Jade said with a shrug, tapping the screen to upload the image. "Now, we just have to wait."