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Post by francois jonathon lucielle on Mar 15, 2011 16:03:49 GMT -5
Happy was a word Francois only wished he could use. It was a word that barely ever passed by in his very extensive list of them. He was never really able to say he was happy. He wished for a long time that he could, but it just never happened. He imagined he was happy when he danced, but then again, was that true happiness? Was dancing until your body couldn’t take anything more considered being happy? It was a question the boy wrestled with inside his mind all the time. He wanted so desperately to be happy. He wanted to be able to smile without cringing internally. He wished he could. He wished he could be like all the other students in this place; all the kids who walked around, happy as could be without a care in the world. The thing was, Francois had too many cares in the world. He cared far too much about things he shouldn’t even concern himself with, and this tended to be one of his major Achilles heals. He was hurt by things easily. He was truly frail, inside and out, but he would never let anyone know. Well, anyone except for Draven now. He didn’t really want this side of himself to come out; the sad, pathetic, weepy side. It was something he always wanted to keep hidden. Like a skeleton in the closet; Francois kept his true colors to himself most of the time. But not right now. In the moments that passed as his eyes watered and his body shook; there was nothing he could do to conceal himself. There was no more hiding in front of the boy, so why not get it all out? Why not spill everything to Draven right now, right here? Fear. Fear of the boy bailing. Fear of being alone again. Fear he might not know what it’s like to really be cared for ever again. It was such a simple, but such a life altering feeling; fear.
There was more buzzing. Francois found his dripping hazel orbs looking to the ground once more. His eyes strained as he saw the message with much difficulty. ‘Call from: Mom.’ His heart thundered gently in his chest. He didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t know how to handle this. He couldn’t pick up. He would never be able to talk; he would never be able to regain himself; would he have to ask the other boy for help now? He didn’t want to. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice and ask. He was already depending on Draven so much right now; there was no way he could ask for more. He was never a child like that. Francois always took what he got and never asked for a drop more; he had been trained that way. His mother would yell at him for wasting things. His father would hit him for abusing privileges; there seemed to be no one of the things he couldn’t do right. It was always one thing or another, and right now, there would be no way he could handle talking to his mother and hearing more about what he was doing wrong. There was such a small emotion buried deep within the boy, it was an emotion he had dug a hole for and killed himself; anger. Francois abhorred anger to no end. He despised it, hated it; he couldn’t stand it in himself. But for some reason unknown to himself, the anger was bubbling up inside him again. He could feel the tears begin to increase from the rage inside him, and his nails dug gently into his open palms, cutting through his porcelain skin. Then his next movement was somewhat of a blur to himself. He remembers looking at the phone, he remembers his leg moving a little, then a crashing sound, and then his phone was lying on the ground across the groom, screen cracked and shattered in more than one place.
Francois felt his eyes widen and his mouth drop open a little, palm swinging to cover it. His whole body began to quake and tremor with the idea of losing his phone, his lifeline to the world. His left hand moved shakily from his side, traveling up slowly before his fingers gently dancing over the skin of Draven’s wrist, and then wrapped around. His head was moving from left to right, saying ‘no’ to something unseen. He began to murmur lightly, in a hushed voice in French. The sentences were broken and disoriented as his eyes began to wail and sting in regret. The boy would not be able to function without his phone and he knew it. The comfort that was received from Draven’s words was suddenly wiped away, replaced with such a devastating fear; he didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he knew how to.
He nearly found himself crashing into the other boy, arms wrapping around his torso as a soft sob raked through his figure, shaking him to his core. His face buried into the boy’s chest, trying to hide himself, trying to lose himself. Francois felt a sudden ping and stab of guilt in his heart. Guilt for dragging the boy into this mess. Guilt for acting as if he didn’t have his own problems. Guilt for everything. He began to talk throughout the small hysterics of his body, repeating over and over in French and English that he was sorry. He didn’t know what else to say, until a sudden sentence ripped through his mouth.
“M-m-mother…w-who…I-I c-can’t…p-prot-tect h-her…p-please…d-d-don’t g-g-go…” He was pleading with the boy for so many things. Asking him to save his mother. Begging him to keep her safe. But most of all, the one thing that made Franny feel the worst was what he wanted the most.
He wanted Draven to stay. To never let go.
And that made him selfish beyond belief. [/size]
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Post by draven cole arrow on Mar 17, 2011 1:43:14 GMT -5
There were some people – Draven had noticed – who did quite a few things for attention. Some people made scenes when they didn’t have to. Some people faked being injured just so people would shower them with gifts or care. Some people put themselves down on purpose so they would get compliments – fishing for compliments, he had heard it called. He couldn’t stand people like that – fakes, attention whores. There were also those people who could cry at the drop of a hat. Or those people who wouldn’t listen to a word you said and then whatever thing you warned them about happened to them and they blamed you for everything. Such a variety of people Draven couldn’t stand…and he was faced with one he had never met before. Francois didn’t fit any of these kinds of people. Draven was pretty sure, seeing how Francois had been fine before, though a bit shaky when he had run into Draven, that he wasn’t the kind to cry right away. He didn’t fake being injured because Draven knew all the scars were real. And Draven was starting to think some of the wounds Francois had were self inflicted, but it wouldn’t be fair of him to judge when he had done something like that as well. Francois was just…ugh, he was a puzzle. He wasn’t making a…well, okay, he was making a scene, but Draven could figure out that it was just from the sheer timing of not being able to hold it back anymore. Francois had a cracking point, just like Draven did. Only their terms of ‘cracking’ were completely and utterly opposite. While Draven seemed to go on a destroying rampage, Francois seemed like he would drown himself in his own tears. And Draven /really/ didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t seem to be helping.
Draven was snapped out of his thought process as Francois’s phone went off again. His eyes moved to look, seeing it was his mother calling. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, even if his brain had come to enough conclusions. And as Francois hesitated to pick it up, Draven found himself almost wanting to. Almost just to yell at his mother on the other line about staying with a bastard like Francois’s father in the first place. He wouldn’t put up with that shit, why would she? Didn’t she know it was a mother’s duty to look after her child? Draven was feeling a bit heated. And lost. He didn’t know what to do when situations like this arose, he really didn’t. Looking as the phone ringing seemed to make Francois even more upset, Draven was just planning to reach over and hang it up before, in a flash, he wasn’t holding Francois back anymore and Francois had destroyed the phone in a matter of seconds. Draven’s brows raised. From what he had seen of Francois, Francois was always clutching that phone. Looking back to Francois, it was like what Francois did just hit him like a semi truck on the highway. As Francois began to shake, Draven moved his hands back to his shoulders, trying to keep his voice sturdy for the boy. ”Francois, calm down…Francois…” [/color] But the boy seemed not to be able to hear anything, and it seemed like as of now, he was completely inconsolable. What the hell was Draven supposed to do? Just a little while ago, he hadn’t known the boy, and now he had a train wreck on his hands. And of course, when Francois spoke in French, Draven didn’t understand a word. He wasn’t helping. Maybe if he went to go and get someone, they could help the boy… Before Draven could even move, he had the breath knocked out of him as Francois was suddenly clinging to Draven’s shirtless torso. Draven’s eyes widened exponentially, his arms moving up out of the way and weary to touch the boy again as the boy seemed to be taking a hug he wasn’t invited for. He didn’t have any words as Francois kept saying he was sorry, and Draven had to admit he was sorry because he couldn’t do this anymore. He looked down at Francois slowly, hearing his cries and Draven found his arms moving down slowly, his hands slowly patting the boy. It wasn’t very effective but he didn’t know what the hell else to do. Draven thought a bit. ”You can relax, phone can be fixed…and you’re not there, you can’t…”[/color] He was about to say they couldn’t help her before realizing that wouldn’t have been the best of ideas. …you can talk to headmistress to help you, I’m sure you will get an answer for then.”[/color] With Francois’s pleas of Draven not leaving, it was almost amusing. He couldn’t leave, Francois had him in a death grip. Draven sighed, looking at the ceiling. ”Okay…how bout…you let go, calm down, and I take you back ok?”[/color] He looked down at the boy. ”Take breaths.”[/color] He really needed Francois to work with him here – he was already doing so much that was completely out of his comfort zone, giving hugs being one of them. But now it would be almost like a mission in it’s own: fix Francois’s phone and get someone to help his mother. That much Draven could look into. Hugging…not so much.[/blockquote][/size]
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Post by anahi alejandra uckermann on Mar 21, 2011 20:54:59 GMT -5
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