ILoveCleo

Rain trickled down the window, splattering against it. Blue eyes followed the trails it left, watching them disappear, one by one, as they reached the edge of the window. Brown eyes that were focused on the road occasionally glanced over to the figure sitting in the passenger seat, with a mixed look of pity and sorrow in them. "Hey," said the driver, nudging the person next to him. "Cry." The passenger's eyes flickered over to the driver, before pushing himself up, stretching his limbs and yawning. He then proceeded prop himself up on his elbow against the console. "Yeah, Russ?" Cry murmured, staring out the window again. "You sure you're

Michael loved drinking. It was his favorite thing to do, if he had to be honest. He liked drinking, but not the "oh-sweet-mercy-is-a-ten-pound-mallet-being-smashed-against-my-skull" feeling that followed the morning after. That is what Michael "Rage Quit" Jones was thinking as he blinked open his eyes one Saturday morning. Michael shifted onto his back as he woke up from an alcohol-induced slumber. He stared up at the cieling, feeling slightly disoriented and like he was going to be sick. He blinked again, feeling his stomach turn. Yep, he was going to be sick. Michael shot off the couch, limbs still slightly tired and stiff, making him

Pewdie sighed, staring at the ceiling. He pulled the covers up to his chin, breathing in deeply. There was a faint smell of them;  the faint smell of Cry. Cry had gone out that night for a bit, visiting Russ and the rest of the crew. Felix had stayed behind, though, having a few videos to edit. Unfortunately, he finished editing sooner than he thought he would, and Felix was left on his own. That was a good few hours ago, and it was already 2 a.m., much to Felix’s dismay. He supposed he could sleep, but he wanted to stay awake and wait for Cry. He thought about calling Cry and possibly joining him and the others, but wasn’t too

Cry wasn’t a perfect person. He made mistakes. Everyone did. Cry made small ones here and there, which either cost him a few bucks, or a little anger. Those, he didn’t mind. They could be fixed easily. Didn’t require much work to put back together the pieces that fell apart. No, the ones he did mind, where the bigger ones. The mistakes that cost him anger, frustration, heartache, sadness. The loss of friends, the loss of a relationship. Those ones, Cry hated having to pick up the broken pieces of. It always felt like he had nothing more to go on for. Yet, in the times of those mistakes, Cry had someone who wouldn’

Jack Frost didn’t like water. In fact, he hated it. Even before finding his memories. Truthfully, he wished he could freeze every single lake, pond, or ocean in the world. After finding his memories, his fear of water only grew worse. He couldn’t stand being near anything deeper than a few inches, and even that scared him. All he could imagine was being dragged under, gasping for breath only to have his lungs fill with frigid water, the darkness that seemed to come with it. He personally thought it was kind of funny… Being Jack Frost, a winter spirit who practically comes into contact with some form of water every day of

Cry shuffled his feet, leaning against the brick wall of the school. He glanced around him, hoping to see a flash of blonde hair. He checked his watch, and sighed. “Cry?” Looking up, Cry saw a blonde-haired teenager, a little older than he was, looking at him. “Pewds..,” Cry murmured. Standing up, he cleared his throat. “You’re… You’re late.” Pewds laughed, shaking his head, moving a little closer to Cry. “Yeah, I am. I had some, uh, things to take care of… Sorry ‘bout that.” Cry shook his head. “I-It’s fine,” he stuttered. Pewds raised an ey

“‘Said you wanna be startin’ somethin’, You got to be startin’ somethin’ I said you wanna be startin’ somethin’, You got to be startin’ somethin’!” Pewdie opened the door to his house, carrying in bags of groceries, and mumbling to himself. He paused when he heard something playing throughout the house, and looked around, confused. “Cry?” he called out. “Too high to get over, Too low to get under, You’re stuck in the middle, And the pain is thunder!” Pewdie shook his head. He carried the bags over to the kitchen, and took off his jacket. He rea

“You’re cheating!” “Nope.” “Uh-huh!” “Nuh-uh!” Pewdie rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with a mock pout. He heard Cry laugh through the speakers on his computer. Currently, Pewds was in a video call with Cry as they played Bloody Trapland for a bit. Pewdie was in Sweden for a few weeks, visiting family and some friends. Cry and Pewds talked almost every day, most times in early in the morning for Pewdie and very late at night for Cry. When they found the time, they’d have a small video call or waste a few hours playing video games before Pewds went to visit another fami

“C’mon! Let’s do the ring toss next!” Pewdie said, grabbing Cry’s hand and dragging him along. Cry let out a small “okay” followed by a chuckle, putting up no fight to being dragged around like a doll. Today, Cry had gone with Pewdie to a little carnival not too far away from where they lived. It had been a pretty boring week, and he felt like they could do something fun to pass the day away.  Besides, it was leaving in the next day or two, anyways. So, Cry drove them there, and immediately, they had started right off with the rides that were a little crazy, any ride that was fast. By the time they