( ill be your sunshine, you can be mine )

[NOAH ASHTON MILLAR]

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE,

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my only sunshine. you make me happy, when skies are gray.[/center]

COLD. that seemed to be the only observation that Noah could make about that particular August evening. The streetlights glittered joyously in their casings and a boy dressed in dark clothing made his way down the dimly lit street. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and to passers-by, he probably looked like nothing special. Just another human being floating aimlessly through Manhattan, looking for a reason to be alive. That however was not the case for Noah. He didn’t need a reason or an answer, he was the answer. Or at least, in his own eyes he was. His tough exterior radiated malicious cockiness, any ounce of sensitivity engulfed by his ego. Many hated him for that very fact, the way he strutted through situations with his head held high, throwing insults without a thought or a care in the world. Fuck them, though. That was his frame of mind. They didn’t have to like it if they didn’t want to. As long as he kept people at arm’s length, he would never get hurt. He would never have to be vulnerable and scared. Those feelings were nothing but past memories, bad dreams that kept him awake at night. A slight sigh left his lips as his mind wandered, back to the past which he’d much rather keep in the past. It wasn’t that he’d had a bad childhood at all, he just found that it was full of empty promises and goodbyes. That was why he never promised anyone anything anymore, he didn’t want to let them down the way he’d been let down so many times. The people that mattered the most in his life, his parents, had never seemed to have enough time for their only son. He’d given up trying to make them proud long ago, forgetting the sports teams and trying in school. He discovered he was much better at something else; marketing himself. It wasn’t long before everyone knew his name, whatever the reason may be. The constant socializing and throwing his name into conversation gave him little time to worry about how many glasses of champagne mother had, or how long it would be before dad would get back from another business trip. His friends became much more important, and enemies seemed to rule over his family life as well. Now that he resided in New York, he had nothing but friends, enemies and his sisters. Oh, and his mother’s platinum visa, of course. It wasn’t like she’d notice his constant spending at all, his family had nothing to worry about financially. A few group therapy courses might help release some tension, but other then that they looked externally stable. Maybe his resentment with his parents would never go away, maybe he’d never have a chance to truly put them out in the open, and to be honest at this point the didn’t really care. It wasn’t like they’d made any effort to contact him or even check and make sure he was doing alright in his new life at all, so why would he waste his time on two people that stopped caring about him when he reached toddler status? As long as he didn’t have to see them until Christmas rolled around, he would be fine. His sisters were always around to stabilize him, and that was all the support he really needed. No one had to know how he stayed up at night and worried, how he wondered what he was going to do with himself. Those things were well kept secrets that he intended to keep it that way. Another sigh. The boy’s eyes raised slightly as a black car drove slowly by. It wasn’t like he looked homeless at all, treading through the upper east side like some sort of animal. Why was it that he hadn’t called at least a cab? Town seemed so far away in the night, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. At least he’d worn a coat. His blackberry vibrated in his pocket and he reached in to wrap his fingers around the expensive mechanical object. The screen told him that someone named Stefanie had been calling him, but he didn’t see any point in answering. A booty call wouldn’t be enough to cheer him up on that particular evening. He needed the smooth, deep beats of club music pulsing through his veins. He needed the burning sensation of a shot searing down his throat. He needed an escape. Alcohol was always the best way to get away from anything bothering him. He’d learned that one from his mother.

THE street started to open up as he made his way along, and soon the houses turned into darkened stores with closed signs in their windows. Noah reached up slowly and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, glancing impatiently from side to side. People pushed back his dark figure, girls dressed in skimpy ensembles, hoping to get noticed by guys like him. They weren’t premium though. They weren’t what he was used to. Generally, Noah knew what he wanted, and he usually had to work for the best girls in Manhattan. For some reason though, that was what he liked the most. Chasing around girls who wouldn’t usually be interested in him. It made the product, the lay, much more satisfying. That was what he felt differentiated him from the rest of the man whores around, he actually had standards. A small smirk crossed his thin lips as he scrolled through his contacts on his phone, bumping into the odd person shuffling by and failing to apologize. Hundreds of female names were splayed out before him, and he wondered what each of them were doing at that very moment. Did they remember him? Of course they did. Girls seemed to remember anything, good or bad, and most of their experiences with him definitely were not bad. Love was never an aspect of any of Noah’s sexual experiences. He’d never really been in love before, and didn’t see how he could ever love a woman. They were far too disrespectful to themselves, far too dense, to ever be of any interest to him in the form of a long term relationship. To put it simply, they were easy to figure out and even easier to play. Not once had he met a girl who didn’t fall for at least one of his simplest tricks. That bothered him, because he imagined himself with someone just as tricky as he was. Just as secure, or insecure, depending on how you looked at it. Someone with a lust for life that could put the past in the past and move forward at rocket speed. The likeliness of him finding a gem such as that was incredibly low however, so he’d basically given up looking and simply got with as many girls as he could instead. It was a lot easier, as it kept him happy without tying him down in a situation he wasn’t into. Of course through high school Noah had girlfriends. Plenty, actually. He just never stayed with them long, because his eyes and mind were quick to wander. To be completely blunt, he got bored with them far too easily and the young girls hardly ever put out. He realized quickly that he was better then them, that he could do better with them. After that, for a long time he dated older, more mature women. Mistresses, you could call them. They wore sophisticated clothing and spoke in sensual tongues. He missed those days, mysterious and exciting meetings in luxurious penthouse sweets while Ms. Jones’s husband was out of town. Now, he stuck to the younger, more naïve girls. There was less danger involved, and it was just a whole lot easier for him. They almost never got upset when he didn’t call back, and if you got enough drinks in them they would hardly remember anyways. That was the beauty of the game, no strings attached. It wasn’t like Noah had become this way overnight however, he’d always been a ladies man. Even as a very young teenager, ten or eleven years old, he’d always admired women’s bodies. The way they curved and flowed was so appealing to his deep hazel eyes, and since then he’d been longing to feel them, to hold one of these strange and mysterious beasts. And that was what he’d been doing since. Raising his eyes he flashed a charming smile at a girl with dark hair and makeup, her long legs exposed due to the short nature of her dress. She blushed and smiled back but continued to walk with her less than stunning friends, her black pumps clicking on the tidy new york pavement. He wondered briefly where she would be staying that night, who’s car she’d be going home in. Perhaps it would be his. He laughed to himself and rolled his blackberry around in the palm of his hand. It vibrated every few minutes to signal a text message being received, but he’d decided long before that moment that he wasn’t too interested in checking his texts that evening. Technology was quite possibly the best thing that had happened to the world, however it got in the way a lot of the time. He hated the way it looked when people sat around in social situations and all they did was text people at other locations on their fancy phones. The only time you would ever find him doing such a thing was when he needed somewhere to go, or was at home on his own doing absolutely nothing, and that actually didn’t happen very often anyways. He always had something to do, somewhere to be. That was his life.

THE club approached fast, a brightly-lit sign exposing it’s name to the street below. There was a considerably long line waiting outside its door, girls dressed in skimpy outfits hugging themselves against the cold. Instead of moving to the back of the line however, Noah simply rolled his eyes and shuffled past the bouncer who smiled at him and clapped him on the back. It was a surprise to the boy that the man remembered him at all, as it’d been several weeks before that when he’d talked his way past the midnight rush crowd. A little bit of cash didn’t hurt, either. Loud music and heavy base immediately began drumming in his ears, and he could feel his body walking more to a beat through the masses of people before the large marble bar in the center of the establishment. A young woman with considerable amounts of cleavage peaking out of her sweetheart neckline smiled at him, asking him what it was that he’d like. Chewing his lip just for a moment, he replied quickly. “I think I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, Tayla.” He’d done nothing but read her name off of her nametag and use it in his response, but the girl blushed as if she was flattered that he knew her name and proceeded to make his drink. In the meantime, he leaned against the cool bar, his elbows resting on the hard surface. He took this opportunity to check out this tayla creature, her shorts exposing a fair amount of her ass when she bent over to grab a glass. His eyebrows raised and she pushed a lock of curly blonde hair from her eyes, flashing him a radiant smile. Her teeth stood in perfect rows, whiter then Canadian snow. She was actually stunning, and her excessive bubbly nature amused him to no end. So he asked her when she finished work, and when she replied that she’d be done in thirty minutes he told her to find him in the club. She agreed, and he walked away with a drink feeling pretty good about himself. A few people recognised him as he made his way through the crowd to one of the overstuffed couches on the opposite end of the room in the lounge area, and he stopped to make mindless small talk with a few of them. Most of them were faces he’d only seen several time, and he didn’t remember the majority of their names. It amused him that for so many people, he was an image stuck in their head, however he couldn’t even begin to remember half the people he met in his lifetime. Lowering himself onto a couch he allowed himself to scan the gyrating cloud, strobe lights and colourful beams passing over their heads. He took a sip of his scotch and the liquid burned down his throat, a sweet feeling that made him feel better then he had earlier that evening. The air was thick and humid inside the club as well, and he slipped his leather jacket off his shoulders and placed it neatly next to him. It sat lifelessly on the couch, crumpled. He yawned and leaned back against the back cushion, sinking into the material. How was it possible that he was this bored in such a place?

[ISABELLE LEIGH WALSH]

monster, how should i feel?

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It was just like any other day in this small town that Isabelle was supposed to call home. It was cold, if not freezing, and the wild and chilling breeze that kept sweeping through the streets wasn’t making it any better for her. Though of course wearing a dress in the midst of a cool August probably wasn’t the smartest thing the sixteen year old could do. At least she wasn’t as inappropriately dressed as her dozen other friends, who all adorned naughty and sleek black strapless dresses that were a size too small for them. Why anyone thought that wearing a short black dress made them look any older was a mystery to Isabelle. It wasn’t about what one wore that made them older, but how they presented themselves and acted amongst other such adults. The only reason such a young and innocent looking girl as Isabelle would know this trick was because she was forced into an early adulthood. This young little thing had been hitting up clubs since she was thirteen years old. To her, even now, she had found it to be a wonder on how she had even earned acceptance into half the bars she was presented in. Maybe it was because of the people whom her mother surrounded her in, or the five inch heels and twenty pounds of tissue stuffed down her shirt. It was no matter now, for that life was behind her. At least, it was what she was trying to do. It was hard to get away from the past, no matter how far you ran away. For Isabelle it had been thousands upon thousands of miles, but no matter how far she moved it would never change the fact that was no longer pure. She was filthy just like the rest of the world and this was the sort of filth that could never be washed away with a simple bar of soap. There was only one person to blame for this cruelty to purity and the blame went all to her mother. The very same mother who only so called loved her daughter when she was on the streets getting her money. Her mother had rarely even looked at her until she was eleven years old. That poor little girl had no father whatsoever, and barely had a mother on top of it. So why did she have to go and just completely take what little dignity she had left and shred it into a million little pieces. There had been a thousand scenarios that run through the mind of the young brunette. All of them about her mother and why in the world she would need her daughter to sell her soul just so she could spend another day in a bar with a guy whose name she didn’t even know? Couldn’t she just have sold herself and kept her daughter’s sanity, soul, and heart in one piece? No matter how many times she thought about it, none of the answers she gave herself seemed to be in her mother’s favor. Why would they be? That woman was something close to heartless. Isabelle had even had the guts to call her mother the devil and what did she know? Maybe her mother was actually the devil or a close associate to him.

The clack of fashionable heels collided with the wet pavement of the city as the group made their way down the small side streets of Elkgrove, Maine. How such a small city had such a popular nightclub was beyond Isabelle but she had no problem hanging out with her friends in that place. She knew there were sex, drugs, and alcohol but she wasn’t going to be participating in any of those things. If her friends decided that they wanted to then she’d just leave. It would be as simple as that, right? After all she had turned down drugs and alcohol since she was eleven. She was probably one of the only young prostitutes who had ever done so and she wasn’t going to ruin her spotless record just because her friends wanted to be idiots. She could try and stop them, but then they’d yell at her and she couldn’t stand being yelled at. Wrapping slender and pale arms around a petit figure left Isabelle looking like an idiot as she strutted down the streets with her friends. Though she was cold, a smile played at the corner of her ruby red lips. Five other ruby red lips smiled back at her. It seemed like hours before the group made its way to the back of a line that was a building over from the club. Looking by the size of the line, this club was much hotter than her friends had made it sound. It was either that, or the bouncer was just being a jerk. With a visible smoky sigh, Isabelle’s hands dropped from around her figure and down to her side awkwardly. Her brown hues looked around the group, waiting for some sort of sign of defeat but all the other eyes were brightened with excitement and adrenaline. It looked like they were going to camp out this line, no matter how long they had to stay in it. It was a good thing that Isabelle’s guardians hadn’t given her a curfew. They trusted her probably more than first time parents should, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. She’d never complain about her aunt Sylvia and her Uncle Jack. They were absolutely perfect for her. Board games every Wednesday, (which may sound lame but was actually really fun once you got into It.) movie night every Friday, and of course Sunday was left to just being a normal family who spent the day outside with each other. If she had grown up living a normal life with at least on living parent she might not have loved all the attention that Sylvia and Jack gave her, but since she grew up with no one she was glad to be treated like a ten year old. They loved her so much that she was pretty sure her heart was going to explode and it was something of a good thing. She had never been treated to well in her life. She never wanted it to stop. She could have never imagined that having a family would have made someone feel so…wanted. At least she felt that way when she wasn’t stuck dwelling in the past, which was slowly starting to become less and less. At first she thought about it every second of every hour in the day. Then six months ago it had been just once or twice a day, and now it was only a couple of times a week minus nighttime. Her slumber was still plagued with the laughing and snarling faces of men thirty years older than her as they destroyed her. She knew the nightmares would never go away, but at least during the days she was given some peace.

The line took much longer than she would have thought to wind down. During her two hour wait to get to the front of the line Isabelle found herself making up stories for the three visible couples in front of her and the group behind her. One of the couples in front of her had come from New York, in search of a quieter life. Only trouble for them was, that once they got the quiet they no longer wanted it, so they hit up bars at night to feel adventure. It was a pretty boring story, but the conversations she imagined them having during the day were quiet funny in her eye, of course her sense of humor was dry and dull compared to her friends and even most adults. Finally, after something of an eternity, Isabelle’s group had made it to the front of the line. Just as they were about to speak to the bouncer some random guy came off the streets and just walked right in like he owned the place. A sea of groans filled the night air as he trotted right in. Glancing back at the group, she could see a few fire stricken eyes. She was sure a few of those angry gentlemen in the back of the line were going to find this cocky bastard and give them a piece of two of their mind. With a stifled laugh Isabelle brought her attention back to the front of the line. After the groans and complaints died down the group was faced with a slight problem. The bouncer, who looked something of a big idiot, was in fact not an idiot. He could see through the fake IDs and sent the girls away with a husky and very scary threat. The girls, who knew they had no chance against the man, walked away with their tails between their legs and their heads turned down to the ground. Luckily for them they had Isabelle in their group, who had street smarts and knew other ways into a club. With an encouraging smile Isabelle lead the girls to the alleyway and lead them to the back door. From her years of unwanted experience she knew that there was always a man guarding the back door. She also knew that said man could be easily bribed to let a few under aged girls into the club. With a hop to her clicky step she got her friends and herself into the club and it only cost them an extra fifteen bucks. The guys here were much cheaper than the ones in Chicago. Sneaking into the club wasn’t as smooth as the movies made it seem. First, one had to make sure no other security was keeping a watch out for unfaithful workers, than you had to walk without being noticed by someone and then you had to blend into the crowd like you had been there for much longer than three seconds. The last part was hard since the music was blasting at full strength right where the back entrance was and the lights blared down at them with such intensity that Isabelle was momentarily blinded. Blinking her eyes rapidly Isabelle lost sight of her group and was left alone in a sea of people. Looking around desperately the five foot four inched women had some trouble trying to see over the heads of men who were standing over six feet tall. A desperate swore passed the girl’s mouth as she tried to push through a group of dirty dancing twenty year olds. With little to no avail she made her way around them. She had to squeeze through a lot of tight corners and she also could have sworn that someone even grabbed at her backside. After a desperate and rather tiring search around the club Isabelle was left alone in the club with less than five dollars to her name, and had cell phone in the hands of one of her friends. If only she had been smart enough to bring her own clutch. Now she was stuck in a club all alone with no idea of the time and no way to contact her aunt and uncle, or her other friends.

With nothing left to lose Isabelle made her way back to the bartender and got something to drink. The blonde beauty gave her a look at the asked several questions at once but Isabelle was really not in the mood to explain herself to this chick. She just wanted something non alcohol that she could sip at while she waited for her friends to come find her, which they would she hoped. She didn’t want to be left alone all night. Being alone in a club like this was never a good thing. She was sure it wouldn’t take some perverted guy long to ask her for a quickie, or something. She had gotten it all the time but this time would be different. This time she wouldn’t have to say yes to them, she could tell them to fuck off and they’d have to find some other whore to get their pleasure from. Handing the bartender the last of her money she stalked away from the bar clutching her bottled water. Making her way back through the spiral of dancing and sweaty people, Isabelle found an area that was full of welcoming and cozy looking couches. What made it even better was that it wasn’t as hot and sticky as the dance floor, nor was it as crowded. It really only held about a handful of people and they were all crowded around one couch. For what reason she didn’t know and she really didn’t care either. She was just going to chill while she waited for her friends and they were probably looking around for her worried. She had nothing to worry about here she kept reassuring herself. With a loud exhale she plopped down to the nearest couch and pulled her legs up to her chest. She set her bottled water to the side as her curiosity peaked. At the next couch over was a man, probably in his early twenties who looked completely bored with the scene around him. Taking a closer look at him she realized that he been the snotty man who had stolen their place in line. Furrowed brows and a pout on her lip formed as she looked away from him and grabbed for her water. All she had to do was wait, and she knew her friends were coming..They weren’t like her other friends. They wouldn’t ditch her like the last group. They just couldn’t. Since her change in lifestyle she had found herself a little rusty with friend making. She didn’t know if these girls were just using her or if they actually wanted to be her friend. She just hoped that the nagging feeling that they had actually ditched her was just her being paranoid. Right now, she really didn’t want to be right.

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TAG noah ashton millar
WORD COUNT two thousand three hundred and forty nine.
LYRICS monster by meg and dia
OUTFIT click here
CHARACTER isabelle leigh walsh
NOTES this is nothingness compared to your awesome post.
CREDIT sophielizabeth of CAUTION 2.0.