Unthinkable (Tate Langdon)

001

Fair warning:
This is a rather dark story. Tate, as much as we love him, is not the hero or the good guy in this. He is not a monster, either. Heavy triggers will be tagged by chapter. Be advised.

August 14th, 1993.

The first time they met was a complete and utter cliché, something better suited to a John Hughes movie than reality; two losers bonding over a mutual dislike of the 'in crowd'.

Evangeline Hendricks had barely stepped foot through the doors of the high school when it seemed the student body took a unanimous vote to dislike her.

The jury was still out on why, exactly, but the general consensus was quite clear - making friends with people in the land of plastic was going to be an uphill battle.

Uprooted from her Seattle home and moved to the sunny state of California, one would think the sudden wave of opposition would have been crushing for a seventeen year old girl, but Eve was mostly unfazed.

It wasn't as though she'd been particularly popular in Washington, either. The icy stares and cold shoulders were more dramatic than the infamous Seattle Freeze, but not altogether too different. Nothing she couldn't handle.

One more year of this, she reminded herself, and you'll be done.

The challenge would be making it through that year without snapping. She'd been successful three times already, and was hoping for a fourth.

With half the day down, the first obstacle she'd yet to overcome was lunch. There was a certain hierarchy to these things, a finesse and an order she had to avoid going against.

It would take a while to learn the cliques, she realized. Instead of risking her neck, she decided for the path of least resistance - a nearly deserted corner of the cafeteria, occupied by only a handful of people.

Inhaling sharply as she built up her confidence, she walked to the least intimidating table she could find.

"Seat taken?" she asked brusquely, nodding at one of several empty seats that encircled a blonde boy who sat alone.

He sort of gave off a Nirvana vibe in her opinion, clad in a librarian sweater and ripped jeans; not a likely candidate to be an asshole about letting her sit there.

Blondie looked up slowly from his untouched tray, almost as if he were unsure he was being spoken to. He merely blinked up at Eve a few times slowly, his dark eyes full of confusion.

"What?" he asked, dazed.

She began to wonder if he was a burnout. It wouldn't hurt to get to know the local stoners on her first day.

"Can I sit here?" she repeated, eyebrow raised dubiously.

"Oh, um, sure. I mean, you probably don't want to," he told her flatly, twisting the fraying edge of his sleeves in between his fingertips. "You're new here, aren't you?"

She ignored his advice and took a seat anyway, setting her tray down and crossing her legs beneath her.

"Am I that obvious?" she asked with a wince.

"If you weren't new, you'd know that no one sits with me," he replied, seemingly a touch amused by that fact.

"Why?" Eve asked with a smirk, chewing disinterestedly on a french fry. "You some kind of leper?"

"More of a pariah, actually. Just ask them," he corrected her, pointing over her shoulder to a table where the obviously popular kids sat.

Her eyes followed to the table he pointed at. All of the familiar usual suspects - cheerleaders, jocks, and assorted kids in expensive namebrand clothing - were currently present and laughing all too boisterously over something she was sure wasn't all that funny to begin with.

"Yeah, well, screw them. That redheaded one? She's a real bitch," Eve brushed off the importance of the little clique irritably, light eyes throwing daggers. "She tripped me in Lit class, today."

She eyeballed the group for any other familiar faces, her expression turning dark when she spotted another.

"And that jackass with the Hulk Hogan steroid thing going on, in the letterman jacket? He tried to look up my skirt."

"Sarah Matthews and Brock Hiller. Sounds about right," he said with a shrug, obviously not stunned by the antics she described.

"How charming," she seethed sarcastically, sipping from her carton of chocolate milk. "Those are the people you think I'm going to let tell me where to sit, a bunch of neanderthal degenerates?"

"Social suicide is your prerogative, I guess," he answered with another shrug which did not betray how inwardly pleased he was at that moment.

"Yeah, I guess it is, whatever that means," she agreed with a shake of her head.

A beat of silence passed as they both considered what could be said next. It wasn't as though two perfect strangers had much to talk about, but the silence was maddening for Evangeline.

"I'm Eve, by the way," she broke the ice with an introduction.

Blonde boy smiled easily, dimples springing up on his cheeks, and ducked his head slightly.

"Tate. Tate Langdon," he took his turn, warily offering her his hand to shake in a polite gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Tate," she returned the show of etiquette, trying to keep from smiling too widely as she shook his hand.

Maybe the first day was doomed to suck.

Maybe the entire year was going to be a bit of a bust, even.

But at least she could say she'd met one person worth meeting.

×××

Hey guys! So, I know I'm way late to the party and the first season of AHS is years in the rearview at this point, but I'm pretty sure there's still a following for Murder House characters, right? Tate, at least? My fingers are crossed.

I'd love to hear from any of you out there who read this or who have recommendations on good Tate-centric stories. Please comment or vote!