and i won't let go.

Ariadne sits patient, gnawing on her bottom lip in the corner of her room. It's less cramped in here than it could have been; the girls were lucky enough to get one of the more spacious rooms in this house, considering there were four of them. She thinks only briefly about the other contestants in this house before putting her focus on herself and her bandmates. The rest of the girls are wasting the night having a laugh, a drink or two, two of them leaving to go mingle with other contestants in the party being held downstairs. Lucky them, they can unwind at a time like this. 'We almost got ourselves booted last week,' is all she can think about. She - they - came so close to losing their chance last week. How. . .how can everyone be so relaxed?

"Fuck," she breathes, threading her fingers through her hair. She may dye it soon. Maybe black. Once she learns how to play a note on her goddamned guitar, maybe then she can worry about dying her hair and drinking and partying and shit, what if they fail again? She gets up, paces the length of the room, wanting desperately to talk to someone but not wanting to come off as, well, desperate. "Fuck."



Louis pops open his can of beer, smirking as he watches the lads run wild around him. Why they came to the party just to fall on top of each other, he doesn't quite understand. They could have just as easily played Leapfrog like five year olds in the privacy of their room, but whatever.

"Loueh," calls one of them, "c'mere, hop."

"No, thanks," he mutters, sitting on the floor and watching Zayn collapse onto Harry, the two of them now a pile of long limbs, tattoos, and drunken giggles. "I'm fine here."

"C'mon, we got the most votes, celebrate, you cunt," Niall kicks at him, spilling some of his drink on Louis' leg and caring little to none. He may apologize when he's sober. He may not. "You can't just not play. We'd just love you on top of us."

"Flattery gets you everywhere, Horan," Louis says with a roll of his eyes, "but not now. Go on, shoo."

He just needs to think. Sure, they got the most votes this week, but God only knows what could happen. If they want a chance, if they want to do something other than go back home with their tails between their legs, they need to stay on their A-game. And sure, Louis is all for letting go and fucking around, but he's just gotten a thought. He failed his A-Levels when he was back home. He straight-up failed. He doesn't have the head for college, he can't focus on it, he can't keep himself steady in it. He needs this. Or it's a life of failure, now ain't it?

"You sure now? Some of the ladies are playin' now," Niall says, wiggling his eyebrows like he's just the cutest. And he is. He's pretty cute. Louis thinks he's very cute. But not now.

"I'm sure. Don't catch anythin'. Have fun."

@ tommo;
Ronnie's in his room, waiting for the party to stop. Being sober for this long has gotten him nothing. His own family wants nothing to do with him, so why not live a little?

"Ronnie?" a familiar voice calls out, and Ronnie pops his head up, causing him to gasp a little when he sees that it's Jacky at the door.

"Yeah?" Ronnie asks, looking down at the front of his jeans.

"Andy's trying to get a hold of you. You should talk to him... maybe?" Jacky says, in hope that Ronnie stops being stubborn.

"Fuck off, you know he cheated on me! Out of all people, you should know!" Ronnie raises his voice, and Jacky just throws a peace sign, walking away before they start fighting.

Dick, Ronnie scoffs as if it doesn't bother him.



Zoe sits at a table, watching as the cute boy band gets on top of each other. She decides to go to her room, for a little piece and quiet. She's got a headache, and that's from all the damn noise everyone's making.

And the stress. You cannot forget about the stress of the matter, especially since her band was almost kicked off the show. Zoe just thinks it isn't fair to her, or her band mates. But she guesses that it's whatever.

Maybe there's a cute guy lurking around?

@ BringMeTheFuentes

Ariadne hears a bit of yelling from one of the rooms down the hall, but shrugs it off. It is not her concern, and normally, she's all for it, getting in others' business, but right now, the fact that they nearly got crushed is a bit more important. She kind of wishes Zoe were in here so she could rant and rave, but really, she can't find the energy to scream about it or beat at the walls or pull at her hair. Fuck it.

But not really because God she really, really wants it.

She feels tears coming to her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. No more of this. If she wants to prove herself to those assholes back home, she has to come strong. She has to play to win. She wants to take her band to the top. Ariadne lets out a sigh as all of these desires come rushing ot the forefront of her head. She remembers what her ex-boyfriend said right as she and the girls went to sing: "This is just a pipe dream. No one ever makes it. You're wasting your fucking time."

And she's not.

But the fact that she might be is really, really terrifying.



Louis watches the blonde from one of the competing bands walk out of the party, thinking that she's probably got the right idea. He crosses his legs and fixes his beanie, which takes up just enough time for Harry, his closest bandmate, to stumble over and sit next to him. He's drunk and happy and a little loud, hiccuping and grinning. "Lou," he starts, "I got her-her number over there. I don't really want it, but I'm gonna. . .gonna, like, keep it, y'know?"

"Right. Because if you don't want a bird's number, you should totally take up space in your contacts for her."

Harry sticks his tongue out and pushes his bottle of vodka - Jesus Christ, where'd he even get that? - in Louis' face, urging him to drink and spin along with him.

"No thanks, mate. I've had enough."

"C'moooon," Harry whines, "don't get all serious on me now. You weren't serious on those tests back home."

Louis pushes Harry's arm away, getting to his feet. He needs to rest. He needs to get his head in the right place. He was serious on those tests. He just. . .he just blanked. He failed. He needs to never do that again. Failure is such an ugly word, leaves such a bitter taste.

"M'goin' to bed, Haz, okay?" he sighs, shaking his head. Harry gets up too, plants a sloppy kiss on Louis' cheek, not like it's uncommon. Harry tells him to sleep tight and makes his way to the back of the room to do a lot of nothing with Niall. God forbid they start playing Leapfrog again now. They'll all end up injured come morning. But Louis supposes that's for tomorrow, though; he needs to get all of those unnecessary thoughts out of his head.

Sucks that Louis is so easily distracted. He thinks he could get farther if he weren't.

@ tommo;
There's a crash sound coming from one of the rooms, and being the nosey guy he is, Ronnie decides to go take a look. Hopefully no one was hurt, because getting hurt while drunk hurt ten times worse than getting hurt sober.

"Are you okay?" Ronnie asks out loud, hoping that they were going to say yes.

"Y-yeah! J-j-just, y'know? Upset." A girl with long blonde hair cries out, and Ronnie frowns. She is obviously shit faced drunk, and she needed to lay down on a bed. Well, before she throws up everywhere. A mess that Ronnie doesn't want to clean up.

"You're drunk?" she asks, which makes Ronnie confused. He doesn't know why she was asking that.

"No, completely sober!" Ronnie says as he gets closer to her. He can tell she was afraid, but had a smile on her face.

"Don't hurt me like my boyfriend used to when he was sober, and I was drunk." she says with the most serious voice she could possibly do.

"I would never, here. Let me help you to your room," Ronnie offers his hand, and she takes it willingly with a dridrunk smile on her face.

~~~

@ BringMeTheFuentes

Ariadne is in the middle of dialing Zoe when she is interrupted by a knock on the door. She tosses her phone on her bunk, runs her fingers through her hair and hopes that she looks at least somewhat presentable after pacing and panicking. She nearly trips over her inhaler going to the door and makes a quick move to pick it up, tossing that to her bed as well before opening the door.

"Hey, uh, did you. . .?" she starts, staring at what stands before her. A fellow competitor - Ronnie, is it? - is at the door, allowing Zoe (who is completely fucking wasted, Jesus Christ) to slump all of her weight against him. Their hands are clasped together and her smile is lazy, tired. "Goddammit. I'm sorry you had to deal with her, I, um, I'll get her off your hands now." She reaches out, takes Zoe and struggles a bit to pry their hands open. It's Zoe's drunk death grip that makes it difficult. Ronnie tells her there's nothing to apologize for, keeps smiling, and Ariadne hopes she isn't inconveniencing him. There is something to apologize for.

Zoe is drunk and a bit of a mess and Ariadne should have been by her side like best friends are, should have been there to prevent any mishaps, it is her responsibility and therefore her fault.

"I hope she didn't cause you too much trouble," she tells Ronnie, forcing a smile. "Sorry again."



Louis is sitting cross-legged on his bunk, rubbing his eyes. His sisters are calling. And calling. And calling. His phone has been singing and shaking for the past fifteen minutes. Lottie. Fizzy. Who let Phoebe get the phone? For God's sake.

He pushes his phone underneath his pillow and massages his temples, feeling almost ready to scream. What do they want? What do they think he can do? He is so far away from Doncaster, from home, from being able to help. Besides, they're probably just fine without him. He can't quite help anyone. He can only pray not to fail and stand at the edge of the cliff, waiting to be disappointed.

With a sudden rush of anger, Louis throws his pillow across the room, not stupid enough to risk shattering his phone. There is no way in Hell he can afford to pay for another one yet. Maybe when he wins. If he wins. Will he win?

His head jerks up when the door opens. It's Zayn, one of Louis' best friends, one he's seemingly clashing with more now than ever.

"Are you high?" he mutters, raising a brow at Zayn's somewhat red eyes. The other male shakes his head and takes a seat beside him, pats his thigh. "Yeah?"

"You need to breathe. You know things're gonna be fine, don't you?"

"I think." Pause. "I hope." Pause. "I don't fucking know. I don't-fuck!"

The phone rings again. Louis throws it at the wall.

Way to screw up. Again.