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High-functioning Marshmallow
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 Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 2:00 am
Right after he got his two cents in with ******** Keith. Conor stood at the old woman's door, a scowl fixed on his tired and weary expression to maybe hide the fact that he felt like he was going to pass out. He wasn't as pathetic as he had been a year ago, when he was still relying on Keith to do it all, but, ********, no one could handle all the running and panic anger going through him for as long as he was. He glared at the door for a few minutes, wondering what was taking the old woman so freaking long to answer when all old people were supposed to be up at three or some s**t for.. old people reasons, he didn't know, he wasn't old. All he knew was that someone was supposed to freaking answer a door when it was knocked on – oooh. Yeah. Knock. Forgot that. Conor sniffed, but solely because of the cold that the end of Fall brought, and knocked. Now he could wonder why the hell Gladice wasn't opening her door. Old creepy dominatrix b***h.
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 1:35 pm
 Due to some strange law of the universe that the author himself doesn't perfectly understand, Conor, for once, was right! Surprising, isn't it? Gladice was indeed awake. Sure, not at 3am like the boy was thinking, but at 5am, and since it was 5:30 right now... She was up! That didn't stopped her for being surprised that someone was knocking on the door. Who did that so early in the morning? The only person to come to her mind, was her grandson, Yoakim, mostly because he usually got up early for work and, perhaps, he had forgot the keys to the smithy, which was still behind her own house, and she had the doubles, so, he was coming to get them. She didn't believe that this was what that was happening, but it was the only logical answer that came to her mind. She got up from the table where she was eating her breakfast, orange zest pancake, with fresh pressed orange juice and some orange quarters.... she had gotten a deal on a huge box of oranges and was trying to pass them before they went bad... Point is, she got up, and opened the door, being surprised to see that, first off, the boy wasn't Yoakim, but wasn't anyone she knew either... or did she? He had a familiar look. "Hello? Can...I help you?" If a stranger came knocking at your door before 6am, they usually wanted something, and it wasn't a simple courtesy visit. She squinted her eyes a bit, trying to remember where she had seen it... Oh...wasn't he? "You were... You were in the cooking festival with Keith, weren't you? I taught... you were suppose to be dead?" She asked in a mild confusion. Unless of course he was a ghost... no, ghost wouldn't have wasted it's time knocking.
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 3:18 pm
“No, I'm Conor ******** Alvey, alright?” He snapped and crossed his arms, “Keith's friend? Uh, anyway, the old b***h has him or.. some s**t, I dunno, but she's got him and I can't get to her ******** room because there's.. like, a big ******** cat and arrows an' swords an' other s**t that kinda hurts, but, uh, not the reason – just.. ********, can you call.. Judy up so I can see him?” This was becoming more tiring to explain with every word, his arms slackening as he went on to show that. But, he couldn't go pass out on a bench until after he saw Keith. Why? Like ******** if he knew! He had already started it, he couldn't stop halfway! He was a man of his word! ..Okay, no, he wasn't, and he hadn't exactly given anyone his word on this, but.. ah, just take it as it is, damn it.
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 3:31 pm
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 11:51 pm
He nodded at Gladice, afraid if he said something she would hit him again – not that he would ever admit to such a thing, but it was still the truth. Damned woman hit hard and he didn't feel up to fighting an old bag. Not when he knew touching her at all gave him goosebumps. Of all the s**t he should have no trouble recalling, did it have to be some ******** up dream? Anyway, he moved inside the home and sloooowlly crept up the stairs. Because he wasn't going to tip the ******** off that he was going to see him! Yes, his plan was to surprise Keith! Then he would.. probably get stabbed. Oh, ********, maybe he should have.. asked Gladice if she had let him have a knife or some kind of sharp object? ...Waaiiit. Haha, it was, like, what, five in the morning? Keith would be asleep! Yeah! Then he wouldn't have to say anything to him! At all! Nope. He could just.. walk right in and.. glance at him, then leave. Yeah, seemed like the best thing to do. Keith wouldn't even know he was there! Happy with his new escape plan of awkward moments, he opened the door to.. “Uh.. hey.” He started out reluctantly, pausing to give the other some chance to greet him back. Nothing came. ..He expected at least a '<******** you.'.. “..Heard you, uh, got.. into.. some s**t, not sure what, but, sounded like s**t, so, uh..” He hoped he was okay? Nah, like hell he'd say that. Keith tried to get him ******** arrested last time he saw him! Then he went off to screw some guy that beat his a** for no reason! “..He punched me because I was <********> Blaire. In his house.” ..No reaction? “..I'm gonna marry her too.” ..Nothing? Not even a glance? Blink? ********! “..She's got a better a** than you too.”
..Not really, to be honest. Keith didn't get popular as a stripper by looking like the average Joe, after all, but Conor was struggling to find anything to get some reaction. Any sort of attention because, ********, the silence was starting to stifle any anger he could muster. He gave the guy some more time, waiting impatiently for something, but, still, nothing was coming and Conor was running out of things he could think of. Hey, he was tired as ******** and it wasn't like he enjoyed that thought crap when he was well rested either. He sneered once his patience ran up, which didn't take very long at all, “Fine. ********. I can wait all ******** day if I gotta. ..Drama b***h.” He added if only for good measure and crossed his arms, standing firm for a minute before he went to sitting against the wall to just.. wait. Keith had to do something soon. No one could stay still forever.
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 2:43 am
Talking about Gladice, the old woman had just stepped inside the room, after Conor had stared at Keith for almost ten minutes. She would have come in sooner, but she was expecting that the boy wanted to have some private time with his friend. He had probably put on coming for some long because he didn’t feel ready or something along those lines. She had known families who had waited almost a year before coming to see a parent who was very sick and bed bounded in a hospital. She understood those feelings. It was different to know that someone was very sick and to see it yourself with your very own eyes. There was something about facing the truth that scared a lot of people off. Avoiding reality was so much easier, but of course, there always came a time where one needed to face reality, and it would seem that today was that time for ‘Conor ******** Alvey’, like he had so politely introduced himself.
”Child, I made some pancakes earlier. Early like it is, I thought you might be hungry.” She told Conor when she walked into the room. Ah! Of course! When did Gladice didn’t go somewhere bearing gifts of food? Leaving up to her, the whole town would have been fatter than an American with a year supply of McDonald gift cards. Anyhow, she walked closer to Conor and set the plate of pancakes and the glass or orange juice near the bed end table. She looked back at the blonde boy, smiling faintly. It wasn’t because he was a rude teenager that he couldn’t feel something right now and needed some comfort. His friend was in quite a state, after all…. State that was, if she had understood well, brought by that same boy’s death… ah, she would have to ask about that later. For now, let him be. ”You two were really good friends, weren’t you? I’m sure he appreciates you being here, Conor.”
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 3:29 am
A day without food..? ..Or was it a day and a half..? Uh, he didn't care enough to do the math. He only picked up a pancake, rolled it up, and started to eat it like that, talking mid-bite to answer Gladice. “Were.” He swallowed the bite he was on and shot a look at Keith, before looking away because, from this close? It was damned hard to look at the creepy guy. No twitch or.. anything. What, did he spend their whole time apart practicing being an emotionless doll or some s**t? “'Cause someone was a drama b***h, we're.. uh.. something.. else. But we don't screw anymore.” He looked back at Keith yet again to try and see if there was something – AHA! HE BLINKED! “HA! Did you see? He ******** MOVED! You suck at the ice b***h game!” He stuck his tongue out if only because of how happy the idea that he had somehow won here made him revert back to six. ...No, wait, Conor didn't need an excuse to do that. He did it just because he could. He paused in that action, though, when nothing else came and.. ********. “Sore loser.” He spat before going back to shoving more pancakes down his throat. Tasty as hell~
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 3:54 am
Thanksfully for Gladice's own mental stability, she had completly missed Conor's comment about him and Keith not having sex anymore. Of course, she didn't mind homosexual males and females, and she was more than aware that Yoakim and Kade had been sleeping together for more than a year, but still, she didn't want to know who was sleeping with who in such crude words. Instead, she simply looked at her grandson. Seriously, he had fallen of the face of the earth for 4 years, and when they finally found him again, not even half a year later, he broke. Like the yought these days would have said : This sucked. "Uhm, Conor? You know that... he's not ignoring you, right?" Tempted the old woman. She wasn't sure if the boy was fully aware of the condition of his bestfriend or not. Judging from the way he was acting, probbaly not. "He became catatonic... basicly...something so terrible happened, that he preferred to escape in his own mind, rather than facing reality... Now, he just spends all his days in the same position facing the wall... He doesn't react to anyone anymore... look." she lifted her cane and poked the boy with it three of four times. Alright, it might not have been the nicest thign to do to a stupor patient, but eh, he wasn't going to complain and it proved her point perfectly. "He's been like that since the 15th of summer. Haven't said a word or did anything and the only movement he makes are a few blinks, swallowing when we feed him and changing position every few hours...."
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 7:13 am
“..Uh.. what?” He voiced his thoughts almost exactly as Gladice prodded Keith with her cane. ..Alright, there was a difference between just not saying anything or looking at the guy that walked in and.. pretending some pointy cane wasn't poking at you. Conor knew from experience that that cane hurt like a b***h and it wouldn't make sense that Keith wouldn't even flinch to that! ..Granted, Conor's minding wasn't working as smoothly as usual, but, even on a good day.. None of this was making any sense. Whatever bite he was on was completely forgotten as he allowed the pancake in hand once destined to meet the same fate as it's predecessors to slip from his hand and back onto the plate carelessly. He looked at her cane for a moment while she babbled on about his eating habits or whatever, considering testing that experiment she did himself with the stick – but, for whatever reason, he knew he would just end up beating Keith until he said something and that didn't sit well with him.
He would rather risk getting strangled or some s**t than do that, which was part of the reason why he opted for moving to the side of the bed that Keith laid at and giving him a shove – or two. Or three. Five. Six, seve – “cry anytime soon. This wasn't worth it and.. “..s**t.. Uh, uh, so, uh..” Nope, not gonna be coherent either. Goddammit. “W-.. uh, ********, the.. date? It's, uh, when, 'cause, I didn't look at the calender or.. ********, anything.” Seriously, he hardly remembered how long he had been running around – as if he would know anything about the dates. He just knew it was getting cold.. which wasn't a very summer-y thing, which meant.. s**t, meant that.. this wasn't a new thing. He slid a hand into his pocket to fist around his matches, the cigarettes, whatever was hiding in there for some comfort but, really, like it had worked before now.
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 11:21 am
Gladice kept looking at the boy, still mildly confused by all that. Sure, she was expecting him to, at least, push Keith a little to see for himself that he wasn't moving but the way he was acting, Conor seemed more in a state of panic than anything else. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the last time he had seen her grandson, they had left on bad terms? A form of guilty remorse? That was the best explanation that Gladice could come up with and, frankly, was close enough to the truth. She shook her head a little, not quite sure what to say in that situation. Perhaps the best thing, was to not say anything at all. "I'll leave you two alone... Stay as long as you want. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs. Don't be shy." Oh, Gladice! Her generosity would have the best of her one day. She gave boy a small pat on the shoulder and left the room, going back downstairs to do the dishes. Hey, those pancake didn't cook themselves!
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 1:49 am
Blinking was a need, eh? ..Obviously not, actually, if Keith could go so long without doing it. The point still stood. There wasn't a parade of worries and s**t to force him awake. Not like when he was proposing to Blaire or when he was out there. There was just one that went absolutely nowhere while he sat there, being played on repeat every few minutes when he tried to muster up a thought of some kind, but the answer was always the same I don't know. Facts. That was.. what he should ******** think about. Lay it all out like what they did in school, yeah? ..Did they do that in school? He didn't know, but he saw Blaire do it a few times when she was studying. Break everything down into simple s**t to make it easier to understand. He never was too into that sort of thing, but, right then? He was glad he had been bored enough to ask her what the ******** she was doing. He stayed there quietly for a bit, trying to lay it 'all out' like Blaire could, but.. ********, it was harder to do it in his head. Anything that went in there was translated as some kind of garbled language he didn't quite have the capacity at that moment in time to understand.
“..You're.. uh.. Not.. there, yeah?” He cleared his throat and looked at the guy for a brief moment before flicking his eyes elsewhere. “'Kay, so, uh, <********>” He bit his tongue and sat up some more, pulling his legs closer to his form in what he swore wasn't some kind of variant of a fetal position – not that Conor knew what the name of that was, but he was aware that the hunched position was always associated with crybaby wimps. He could do this. Keith wasn't.. yeah, he could do this. He was.. Uh.. ********, just do it already! Did it ******** matter at all what the state of the goddamned surroundings were? No. Gladice was ******** out of the room and he didn't give a s**t if she heard him talking to himself. It wasn't like he was talking about anything she wouldn't already know. “..We ain't anything. Yeah? You said it or.. I think, I don't know, ********, dude, I can't remember s**t – happened.. ******** fast and.. Yeah. ********. We aren't anything. We ain't <********> or talking or doing any of that s**t together 'cause it's over and we're over and if I went around you or.. followed you or did any of that s**t it didn't mean we were back or ******** anything – we're over.” Alright. Fact one was down.
“And I'm with Blaire now. We're gonna get married and, ********, stick because I want it, 'kay? We didn't stick. It didn't work 'cause we're not.. I don't ******** know, alright? If we worked, we wouldn't have ******** broke, yeah?” Fact two. “You're with ******** Clark. I've got Blaire, you got Clark. I don't ******** know what the hell is working with him that didn't work with me, but it's ******** something and I won't ask 'cause I don't ******** care.” ..Not like Keith could answer anyway.. Fact three. “You're, uh.. I.. don't ******** get what's this gotta do with me – your brother's confused or some s**t, I don't know. This ain't got nothing to do with me. But, uh, you're.. not talking or looking or there because you're not hearing any of this and I do–” He sucked in his breath and held it. A crack. It didn't matter – no one could hear Conor right then – but.. Since when did Conor ever do something for someone else's benefit?
He wasn't breaking down right then because he didn't want to know it. This wasn't supposed to affect him. That was the answer in the end, yeah? He wasn't related to any of this. He couldn't be and he didn't ******** care. It was like seeing some ******** get stabbed or spotting a woman getting raped – Conor wouldn't get involved because it wasn't his trouble and he wasn't going to help someone who wouldn't have done the same damned thing for him. Keith left. Keith didn't ******** care about him, so that meant Conor shouldn't and even if he did just a little bit, he shouldn't act on it. It shouldn't hurt him enough to make his voice crack or eyes water or do any of that bullshit. He shouldn't be still there. Blaire was stabbed, wasn't she? He didn't know about her, but he had to guess that that would have scared the s**t out of her. She wasn't like him or Keith who could handle that s**t. She needed him to be there, yeah? He should have left and went to Blaire's place. Stayed with her. He could have sneaked in through the window when Yoakim went to bed. He didn't have to go through town looking for someone he didn't give a s**t about.
He was there, though. He didn't want to move, because, however much he tried to go with the indifferent attitude or even when he allowed himself to go so far as to admit that, yes, this wasn't easy, he knew that leaving was even harder. He moved forward in an awkward, scooting motion, one hand still tucked in his pocket and the other taking hold of the bed frame once he became close enough. “..S'not any ******** better.” He mumbled lowly, convinced that speaking loud could cause that noticeable crack again and force him into sitting in silence while he pulled himself together. It honestly wasn't any better to get closer to the bed and he irritatedly snapped that at the impulse that dragged him over there, but he still didn't back up again. Part of him found it worse, but another part was somehow lightened the closer he got and that was better than before. Not by much, but still better. “I'm.. looking at them – the, uh, facts. Or, ********, thinking, 'cause I can't look at facts. They're not s**t to see.” He swallowed and moved his hand up from the frame he was clutching to, hesitantly bringing it to the edge of the mattress to sit there. “They're.. not for us, you know? They're.. ******** against us.” His lip twitched – almost a smile, but it didn't linger for long.
“But.. <********>, man, that's how it's always been, yeah? Everything's always against us. Even you an' me were.” He stopped his fingers just short of a touch. This time was different than those shakes he gave him before, to a frightening extent. But, he wasn't going anywhere. Neither was Keith. Not this time. “But, I'm.. uh. I'm not and you can't be now, yeah? You can't even leave the damned room.” Some shift in his tone came into his speech and he would love to believe it was amusement, but it was something heavier than that. His hand, which had sat there still a breath away from Keith's leg, was forced forward to softly hover over in a shaky way that betrayed his exhaustion. “And I can't either.” Whether that was meant to be assuring to the deaf other, he didn't know, but it was as truthful as he ever got. He let his hand drop over the covers and suddenly felt much more ease at the heat there. Proof he wasn't all dead. He moved his other hand over to rest on the bed further down the other's form, a crinkled cigarette box and used up matches still in the fist, while his forehead went to rest on the mattress. “
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Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 2:49 am
 In all that giant post of extremely cute fluffiness that made this author go 'daaawwww' more time than he is willing to admit, Conor had gotten one thing right, and it was that Keith couldn't hear him. If he could have, the speech about Conor being with Blair and Keith being with Clark would have been enough to let the boy forgive Conor and resume his friendship minus the sex (not that that wouldn't do it. Just less often and behind Blair and Clark's back), but, unfortunately, he didn't hear a single word. He stayed on the bed, in the exact same position as before, staring at the exact same spot on the wall than before. If Keith had been conscious and simply ignoring Conor, he would have had reacted when the boy talked about facts and stuff. He would have at least acknowledge the other boy's presence in the room, maybe even look at him, if not spoke. Unfortunately, he didn't hear a single word. If Keith had been conscious, he would have started to cry when Conor had admitted that he wasn't against their relation, that it would still be them against everything else. Oh, of course, he wouldn't ever have admitted to it in a million year - it was only a dust in his eyes, allergies, something! He wouldn't have been crying. Unfortunately, he didn't hear a single word. If Keith had been conscious, when Conor had place a hand around him and said that he wasn't going to leave the room, Keith would have shift position, face Conor and started to make out with him. Probably started to give each other a hanfjob and then ******** like they had never ******** before. Unfortunately, Keith didn't hear a word.
Something, however, did happen. Oh, something very small, barely unnoticeable. After Conor had laid down next to him, had wrapped his hands around him, just a moment before he had feel asleep, Keith had shift in his position. Oh, nothing big, minimal, even. His left foot had moved of so slightly, barely half a centimetre, just enough to now be touching against Conor's. Now, was that done before he was reacting to his friend's presence? Was it done because he was slowly getting out of his state? Was it? No, no. It wasn't. He did move, once in a very very long while and right now had just been one of those moments. Why would someone believe that he was reacting to Conor's presence? After all, in his mind, in the little world he had created for himself, far from that stupid evil reality he was living in, Conor was still alive. In fact, Keith and him had never left the city. They were still living together in their shitty apartment, that had never burned down and lived the life they had always lived before. Drug, alcohol, sex, every hour of the day, every day of the week. That was the time where both of them where happy. The time before stupid family, and childhood friends came and ******** everything up for them. It was in that world that the boy had preferred to let his mind go. ******** reality where Conor was dead. That world was so ******** much better.
About an hour or so after Conor had fallen asleep, the old woman had made her way back to the bedroom. It had been a while since he had heard any noises coming from it. She understood perfectly that the boy had wanted to stay alone with his friends, but after an hour of silence, she was starting to get worried. People could hang themselves with only a shoelace, she didn't really want to have a cadaver in her house along with one that wasn't far from it. Thankfully, when she opened the door, she wasn't met face to face with a hanging body, but two sleeping ones. She looked at them for a moment, smiling softly. More than just friends, of course. She had her doubt, now she knew. Of, no, she didn't had her confirmation when the boy had talked about them having sex together. She knew that there was a difference between people sleeping together and 'being' together. Those two? Even if they had never admitted it before, they had been together, she knew it. And right now? No one was there to tell her otherwise.
She left the bedroom and walked a bit further in the hallway, stopping in front of a door, that she opened. It was there were she kept the things like pillows, covers, bed sheet, etc. She took a pillow and a cover and moved back to the room where the boys were sleeping. She smiled once more at them. If one wasn't in a medical condition, they would have been so cute and peaceful. She placed the cover over them both before sliding the pillow under Conor's head the best she could without risking waking him up. Not that she believed he would have been easily woken up. Boy looked exhausted. She took the empty plate that had hosted the pancakes previously a well as the glass of orange juice and left the room, closing the door behind her.
//End of the Day.//
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2011 1:11 pm
Of course, it came with a warning that it was more likely lifelong, but Conor conveniently forgot that grim detail in favor of the hope that Keith would respond someday. And he swore to ******** hell and back that he wasn't gonna be taking a 'walk' when it happened. So, he would wait next to Keith until then. It wasn't like he had anything else to do. No job, no one was inviting him to hang out, and he was pretty sure everyone in town hated him at this point, so why should he bother? Even if they did want to see him, they could ******** off and come to them. Conor sat on the bed beside Keith, his arms slung around the other in an embrace that occasionally tightened as he spoke aloud to, well, himself. He didn't know why he would continue speaking about nonsense to someone he was well aware couldn't know what he was saying, let alone respond, but.. Eventually, he would. Because Keith wasn't some p***y that would get stuck like this – he was better than that. So, he would just have to wait and soon any question he had for him would be answered. Conor just wished he was better at this waiting crap.
“Then the, uh, ********, fat.. mayor.. I dunno, that b***h? With the horses? Yeah, she never found out it was me, but I lit her shed up 'cause her ******** horse hit you. Don't know if I told you that s**t – did I? Brent took all the blame. Kid was a creepy d**k – deserved that s**t. Probably is being ******** in jail somewhere – or screwing his creepy ******** sister. ******** hated them.” Maybe not the best story someone could be telling to a patient, but this was Keith. Conor figured he would have been just as amused by the tale as he himself would have been. It took a few days for Conor to get this close to the other, having chosen to sleep on the floor beside the bed at first. Why? Honestly, it was hard to get too close to Keith because.. it just wasn't right. Keith talked as much as Conor did when they were together or would be moving – touching his scar or.. or doing something. Not just sitting there like he was. But, soon, it became hard not to touch Keith. Especially when the other was sleeping. It was difficult to tell whether he was alive or not during those moments and the only way to make certain was by setting a hand on Keith to feel his pulse. What was just holding a hand eventually turned into laying beside him and, before Conor registered it, he hardly stepped off of the bed for much of anything.
Whenever he did find himself between moments with Keith and he crossed the hallway to get to the bathroom, he would suddenly be reminded of everything else he should be doing. Talking to Blaire, asking Keith's supposed 'friends' why they hadn't visited yet, and, ********, actually talking to the guy's brother about how the ******** he was involved in this. He entertained ideas of perhaps taking Keith and leaving town to go live elsewhere with just them, because he was sick of this place. Keith didn't need anyone outside of him and Conor could take better care of him. He was certain of that. It was all the island's fault, anyway. Everything was better before they went here and maybe if they left, Keith would get better. Who needed his family, anyway? Gladice was probably just taking care of him out of some ******** obligation, Judith didn't do nothing but give the guy panic attacks, and his older brother could have just as easily been the one to give Keith away to his mother anyway. Keith hated his sister last he checked, which made everyone Conor knew to be related to Keith and on the island just bad news. Getting the ******** away from Clark would be a bonus and <********> anyone at the strip club Keith knew. Seriously, where the ******** were they? Probably just forgot.
..And then there was Blaire. He had proposed to her, hadn't he? He.. wasn't sure about it anymore. Blaire was awesome and he really liked her, but.. Blaire was fine. She had friends, family who really cared about her, and, ********, a future without him. Would getting married mean.. leaving? The room? He didn't know if he could do that and he didn't want to. But, he should talk to her. Maybe call her, ask her over, send a message – he wasn't sure what, but he should tell her so she could move on. Maybe take up one of those many offers he was sure she was getting. But, then he would go back into the room without thinking and.. forget any of those intentions. He would sit back on the bed and ask where he was at before he went, take a guess, and continue talking. He wasn't used to speaking for so long alone, but it was all he could do right then. “Think I saw one of the kids. Kyle? From, uh.. School? The, uh, p***y from school.. Black hair and s**t? Used to beat him after class – when you were done with class, stopped going after awhile. ******** useless s**t. You only went 'cause you were such a good boy, yeah?” He started a halfhearted snicker, pausing in wait for some sort of protest or insult to be tossed back at him, but nothing came.
..Maybe next time.
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Posted: Sun Apr 10, 2011 2:43 pm
Then, where the ******** was he if he wasn’t in an hospital or been kidnap by some psycho trying to steal his organs? He rolled out of the bed to try to find out where he was, but fell off on the floor in a very loud ‘thomp’. He tried to get up again, and felt flat just like he had before. He looked at his legs…. Tried to move them… Nothing! Oh the ******** b*****d! They had broke his legs! He couldn’t use them anymore! He grabbed the side of the bed and tried to raise himself once again, but he barely had any strength in his arms to do so! They must have had drugged him! That was the only explanation! And the not fun kind of drugs either! He tried one more to lift himself on the bed, only to fall flat on the floor once more. Goddamnit! ”Hhhhh!!!!!.....Hhhh…..hhh? HHHHH!!?!??!!?” What the ******** was happening? He had tried to swear, but nothing came out and not he tried again and again and nothing! He couldn’t talk! The ******** the ******** the ********???? He tried to get up once more. He felt. Tried to scream, nothing, stand, all, talk, fail stand, talk , fall fail. NOTHING.
He could start feeling his breathing increasing. Yes, that was a panic attack that was coming and probably the one he had the best reason ever to have. He was going to die in this place, wherever he was. ********.
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Zemblanity Insomnia Captain
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High-functioning Marshmallow
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2011 12:44 am
“Dude, uh – s**t. Hold still.” He shut the door behind him and hurried over to the guy, his brow creasing while he continued to spoke aloud. He had grown too used to speaking whatever came to mind that the idea of shutting up had ever occurred to him while he worked on getting Keith off the ground and onto the bed. “Course, you'll hold still, you can't move – uh, well, a lot, you can't move a lot, but, ********, dude, falling off the bed? Never did that before – was it 'cause I moved you? Didn't think it would matter. You hardly ******** do much anyway– ….”
His short-lived rambles suddenly cut off as, when he had gathered the too light body in his arms to set back on the bed, he noticed something off. This wasn't the first time he had held Keith, albeit before then he was on a bed, so, of course, when he first picked him up, he immediately felt that Keith's body was tense, his breathing was sporadic, and his eyes? There was actually something there. He locked onto the other's panicked gaze, his own breathing spiking, pulse running wild, and, overall, complete, utter confusion. Instead of gently tucking him onto the bed as he had intended to do, Conor dropped Keith onto the bed and ran out of the room before he could say anything else. He dashed through the hallway, down the stairs, and started to turn into the living room that Gladice normally could be found in – before he stopped dead. ...What the ******** was he doing? Grabbing Gladice?! He wanted to smack himself, but he didn't have time to do that. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, opened the fridge to snatch up the orange juice, and then run his way back into Keith's room in almost the same minute he had left.
“Hey – Uh, you there? You're there? I think you're there – ********, are you there?” He was surprised he was actually saying something outside of 'uh's and stutters, not that he was being very diverse in his speech. He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped the container of orange juice carelessly on the ground, the object somehow managing to stay solid even so. The lock was fumbled with for a moment before Conor had it locked – why? It was as simple as he wasn't willing to share a conscious Keith with anyone. He leaned over to grab the juice again and made a few quick steps up to the edge of the bed to sit back down on the floor, “Uh, you thirsty? I mean, uh, you've been drinking, not giving you nothing or anything – wouldn't allow it – but, it's just, uh, you haven't.. in awhile.. Uh. ********. Do you like orange juice? I'unno, it's good s**t, I like it, but that doesn't matter, 'cause it's not for me – <********>” He swallowed – pouring orange juice right now? Wasn't really working out for him. His hands were too shaky and every attempt ended up with an equal amount of juice on the ground as it was in the cup.
He stopped his tries with a drop of the container, not caring that he had just wasted practically a whole jug of the stuff on the floor because, <********>, Keith was actually looking at something. He swallowed for what felt to be the hundredth time while he left the floor to hop onto the bed and enfold his arms around the other again, much too tight for it to be comfortable for either. “s**t, Keith.. Why'd you take so ******** long?” The words alone would have given the idea of annoyance, but, in reality, he was plain happy it had even happened at all. He was starting to doubt it; starting to think that Keith wasn't gonna stop staring at a wall and Conor was going to end up living in that room. He would have if it came to that, but it hadn't and there was no way he could describe how relieved he was from that.
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