{Draven} Lie to Me; I've Been Sick Forever

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Life was something that was expendable. It was something a lot of people took for granted, but not Francois. No. Life to him was something special and unique. It was something he wasn’t willing to throw away so easily, but at times the idea didn’t cross his mind. Now was one of those times. As the boy lingered by the door to his room, knowing it has to be close to six in the morning. The boy didn’t feel like going out, or doing much of anything…but he knew he had to. And so his hand gripped the doorknob within his glossy palm before he turned it and opened it, heading out and shutting it behind him. He didn’t really want to do much of anything, but he had stayed within the confounds of his room for far too long. The boy needed to get out. He needed to do something with his life, even if it meant something small. His body was sore and his hand was still healing, but he could walk. It took a lot to break the boy down to the point where he couldn’t walk or move, but it wasn’t unheard of. His eyes settled on the front door of the school not long after he left the room, deciding it was his best bet before sighing and heading towards them lethargically. He walked out into the morning air, and it was surprisingly chilling. He grunted softly to himself before heading out towards the woods, gripping his arms for warmth.

Now Francois wasn’t stupid. He knew it was easy to get lost in the woods, and so he devised a plan. He took some of the broken, jagged tree branches that decorated the forest floor, and gouged them into the tree so they stuck out like land markers. He grinned as he did this for every five to seven trees, looking to make sure it were okay, he smiled when he realized it was easy to spot the pattern. He kept going deeper and deeper into the forest, tracing his steps and making sure everything was fine and dandy for him as he did. Thought there was an…uneasy, air to everything. He didn’t know why…but it felt heavy and humid, and it wasn’t even hot out. He grunted small to himself before continuing to walk, when his ears picked up on something. It was so small, so light…but he was sure he heard it. It was a leaf cracking. It wasn’t anything he had stepped on, because he had watched very carefully for his exact movements, and one of them was not stepping on a leaf. He let himself take a few more steps before he could keep on walking, the noises behind him now standing out tenfold. Crunching. Breathing. He could hear it all, but before he could even turn around, there was a voice.

“Francois?” The boy’s muscles all tensed before he flung around, just in time to catch glimpse of shining silver flashing through his vision. The boy quickly recoiled back, letting his body fall back as his palms hit into the ground, doing a back hand spring and letting his foot come rocketing up into the man’s jaw as Francois’ body ached, the move taking a toll on him as he huffed and moved back. The man groaned and grabbed at his chin, finally coming into focus.

He was a tall, built man with dirty blonde hair. In his right hand was a small dagger with a sharpened edge. His eyes were frantic looking, an icy blue, and he seemed to not have shaved in days. His clothes were proper, dress shirt and everything for a normal business man; just scabby and torn up. He growled at Francois before the boy adjusted his position to one of utmost proper being.

“Hello, Father.” and then there was staring. They stared at each other for a long time, deep emerald clashing with diamond blue, until there was movement. Francois father lunged and ran, and Francois was forced to take a step to the side and neatly dance around his father it seemed. The man flew on his heel though, the knife aiming up and if Francois hadn’t dodged in the split second he had, it would have taken off a little bit more than just a piece of hair. His knee came up, and then older male caught it with his hand. Francois let his ankle rotate as his knee moved away from the man’s grip, spinning before landing a kick into his ribs. Though the small assault hit, there was a rebound due to Francois’ tattered body. The blonde male let his hand fly up and then down, and it took a clear slice of Francois’ cheek. Blood splattered onto the ground as the young French boy faltered back, the crimson liquid dripping out his wound and down his cheek. He growled lightly, meeting the smirk on the other male’s face.

“Finally going to correct the mistake, yeah?” His voice was harsh and cutting, and then he was lunging again. The blade swerved around Francois’ torso, missing him by so little as he fumbled backwards again. There was another slash, and this time it landed on the boy’s arm. His creamy skin was gashed open as more of the red liquid splattered against brown forest floor. Francois let out a shrill yell as he fumbled back against a tree. It was on his left arm, right in the middle, and it didn’t look to happy, the cut. His father grinned before advancing on him slowly, like a predator stalking its wounded prey.

“Now it will be all over Francois. Now the mistake will be fixed.” And then with one last lunge, Francois cornered; there was a bone shattering scream.

Cold metal intruded soft flesh and slipped between two bars of bone, rupturing tissue and causing large ribbons of crimson to garland a cream colored floor of leaves. The boy shook violently, holding his position with the foreign metal intrusion in his side. His right hand, surprisingly moved to the male’s throat, who was now laughing almost menacingly. He stopped the second a powerful hand gripped at it, causing his eyes to twitch as they focused on the boy in front of him.

“I-I…w-won’t d-die…t-that e-easil-ly…” Then there was pushing. His thumb jabbed into the pressure point in the male’s neck, and Francois caught glimpse of him squirming through his bangs. He grinned almost devilishly as he could feel the male’s pulse increasing in his thumb, before slowing, and slowing, and slowing; until it was no more. Francois doesn’t know how long he stood there with the man in his hand, but soon he was on the ground, lying motionless. As a Dancer, he had to know this. But he never thought it would have in so much handy. His back hit the tree as he fell, raking down as another loud whimper was heard, the bark scratching and digging at the skin on his back. He hit the ground as the sun began to set, highlighting the boy who bled against the tree and his attack lying lifeless in front of him. Francois didn’t remove the blade from his side, because he knew he would bleed out faster that way. Another groan slipped through his bloodied lips as the liquid dripped from the right side of them. His right hand moved, shaking, into his pocket and tore his phone out from it. Very slowly and carefully he scrolled through the contact, before finding Draven’s name. He remembered how the boy told him it was only for emergencies, and that he shouldn’t really text unless absolutely necessary. Well, Francois thought it was necessary to apologize now, before he could not anymore. He typed it messily, and not as himself. There were a few double letters, and then a violent coughed rumbled through the boy. He spat more crimson from his mouth that hit the phone, causing more obstuctions, but he kept typing anyway. He sent the message before the phone fell limply into his lap. His left hand fell to the side, trembling as the crimson gently drained from it as well. Francois looked off into the sky, the sun rising as it highlighted the forest, the area with all the morbid decorations courtesy of himself. He felt tears draining down his eyes at this moment, and wondered for how long he had been crying without noticing. He coughed a little more, blood seeping through his shirt and side, but not as much on the side with the metal inside it. He grinned small before staring directly into the sun, speaking in a hushed tone, to himself at this point; before all was quiet save for the birds who chirped the song of death and trees who dripped the tears of hate.

“I h-hope…you’re h-happy…D-Draven.”

[draven cole arrow]

Draven couldn’t believe it. Only almost a month or so into the school year, and already so much had happened. He’d made some new friends, he’d…lost a friend. Well, Draven still considered the boy his friend, but he wasn’t going to go around someone who would hurt from Draven being anywhere near him. Draven had tried out a new language, he had learned valuable skills even this early in the semester. He had said more words to people than he ever had in his life. It was a big step out of his comfort zone, being here. He had met a girl. He had gone to an American club. Truly, it was…this was monumental. But while he had been doing all of those things, he was still neglecting to get good sleep. And to finish all of his homework. He didn’t always see the point of the things that they were still required to do. In Germany, he was much farther ahead in things like mathematics than what students were here. It was a bore and sometimes harder to understand things here when he couldn’t understand all aspects of the problem. So he used his homework time as more of a…resting time. Sleeping when he would’ve been sleeping had he still been back in Germany, then normally waking for Dinner and then staying up for a little while in the middle of the night before doing his homework as best as he could and going back to sleep maybe…two hours before he had to reawake. It really was taking a bit of a toll on his body. As was him not being able to smoke. God, you would think that he had found a good place to do it but God, it was like the entire building was wired and people were watching you all the time. Which he was sure they were. He hadn’t gotten a good smoke since coming here. And because of not getting good sleep, a smoke, or a break from the stress, he was needing some sort of release. Badly. All this new and nothing to hold onto, even a dirty bad habit. Well, he figured he’d break that streak today.

Before now, he had been considering quitting, but from the nicotine headaches he’d been getting lately, that wasn’t happening. After waking from his normal “naps”, he pulled his boxered self out of bed, moving to pull on some clothes. Just a thin, open necked shirt and some looser jeans, pulling a belt on to keep them up, before moving to find a mirror, running his fingers through his hair. Making sure his eyeliner wasn’t smudged, he sighed, grabbing a pack of cigs and shoving them down in his pocket, heading out of his room. It was about…maybe an hour before dinner was normally called. He’d woken up a bit early, but it would be worth it. Walking down the hall, he looked to Anahi’s door as he passed it, then Francois’s. Neither seemed to be around. Better for him, he had some alone time to himself now. Slipping out of a back door, he headed back, making it look like he was starting for the tennis courts and the pool, but detouring towards the woods where he’d heard there was an abandoned barn. He wasn’t going all the way back there, obviously, he just wanted to find a good spot. Once inside, he leaned against a tree, looking around a bit, moving to dig his cigs out of his pocket. Sticking the cigarette in his mouth, holding it between his lips like a sweet embrace, he had to admit…it felt damn good. He wasn’t even smoking it yet and it felt so natural to him. His fingers were used to holding it and he liked knowing that he was so close to actually getting a few drags out of it. He would have to work harder on quitting. He wasn’t a quitter, and he had a slightly addictive personality. That was never a good thing. It meant he was easily hooked into things, whether it be smoking, drinking, or sex. And all three of those things got him in trouble. But that was beside the point at the moment. He was just glad to relax. Bringing his lighter up, he was just about to light the cig before he noticed something. He wasn’t sure how he noticed it at first, but maybe all this spy training had gone to his head…

Tree branches? They were sticking out in weird places, one after the other. Had someone left a trail? Who the hell would be out here by themselves and actually go that deep in the woods? Wouldn’t they have taken the branches out if they had made it back okay? This got Draven to thinking, moving to slip his cig back in the box, moving quietly to follow the trail. He wasn’t sure why all of a sudden he had become so curious. Maybe he’d just picked it up from Anahi. Moving a bit deeper in the woods, Draven could hear a commotion. Shrill yelling, and then a blood curdling scream. That made him take off running, stopping behind a broad tree trunk, peeking to see the ground covered in crimson, and then not even a moment later, a blonde haired limp body of a man falling to the ground. Draven’s eyes widened, looking up to see who else was involved. And surprise covered his whole body. Francois? Who was the blonde guy? Draven squinted to see Francois a bit better, watching the boy slip down the tree, and he immediately knew something was wrong. It looked like he was coming to the rescue again. He hadn’t even gotten halfway around the tree before his phone went off, and he didn’t stop to read it. Moving over, he entered the clearing right as the boy spoke, and he almost stopped. Had the boy done this because of him? Had he stabbed himself? Well no, someone else was obviously in the picture…though not anymore. He quickly moved over to Francois, looking him straight in the eyes, ”No. I’m not happy. What…what happened to…”

[/color] He trailed, his eyes moving over the boys wounds, his cheek, his arm…and his side. His eyes widened, moving for his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what number it was that he was supposed to call, he just knew from what they had learned in class. Dialing up 9-1-1, Draven waited, moving Francois’s hair out of his face, before moving over to the other man, feeling for a pulse and not feeling anything, the people on the other end picking up. Oh God, what did he say?

”Hi, I’m in the back of Waverly Academy…in the woods, my friend’s been stabbed, he-“[/color] He stopped as all these questions were asked, some he didn’t know how to answer, like how to get there, for one. He just told them all he knew, and told them there was someone else who was dead on the scene and to hurry, actually swearing at them, and he was told to stay on the phone. No way in hell did he want to stay on the phone. He shook a bit, moving back over to Francois, though the phone still to his ear, ”Don’t move, alright? No moving Francois.”[/color] He took a breath, just waiting. He wasn’t sure what else to do.[/size][/blockquote]

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Guilt. Francois never thought he would ever know so much guilt until the moment the boy was in front of him and one thing was evident in his mind; he heard him talk. Oh god. Oh no. Francois began to panic. Why wasn’t Draven mad at him? What was going on? Why wasn’t he happy? It didn’t make much sense to Francois, any of it. He figured Draven hated him by now. He figured the boy wanted to see him rot and die, but…but he didn’t? Why not? Why was he still here? Francois knew from experience, that when the going got rough…people just left. He knew that the human mind was such a fragile thing and it could only hold so much…and then it broke. It always shattered into a million little pieces and left someone like a clean slate, completely empty, completely blank. Francois had watched this happen to his friends. He would watch each one crack over and over again; almost like a cycle….it was cycle not even he could stop. But then again, did he really want to stop it? Did the boy actually want to erase what made him feel human? What made him feel connected to other people? When he saw other human beings just like him break and fall to pieces, it gave him a secret justification that it was okay for him to do it too. That it wasn’t like he was just weak or pathetic, even though he knew he was, but not he had an excuse. When other people acted distraught just like he did, it gave him…a safety net, at most. But when he thought about Draven, the boy kneeling down in front of him breaking and falling to ruins…Francois felt himself crumble inside. To him, if he had to watch the boy finally give up like he had; he knew it would be like watching Draven die before his own eyes, and know he caused it.

But there was so much different between him and the German boy. Draven was just…so much more…equipped, for this lifestyle. He was so prepared for anything and everything that came his way, unlike Francois. He could handle someone of the same sex liking him. He could handle leaving his mother halfway across the world. He could deal with all these things and still be able to fight and move on; and yet Francois could not. The small French boy was completely in threads; mere fragments of himself. He couldn’t help but let out a small whimpering noise from the thoughts and pictures running through his wind, moving his quaking hand to wipe at his eyes before letting them linger to the crimson stained ground before taking in a shaky sigh, gesturing to the man on the ground with his head.

“F…f-fathe-r…” He nodded small at the male before letting his eyes look back down at his body that slumped against the tree. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want this. He just wanted to get out, to leave somehow; but in the end, didn’t he get his wish? In a way, Francois wanted to leave for good…and now he felt like he was. As each second ticked by, he felt as if the life of him was draining out of his body, even though he was bleeding such a minor amount. He could feel breathing become harder and his mind starting to swirl, and that was when he knew he needed to speak up. He needed to use the breath he had now, before there was nothing else left to talk with.

“D-draven…” It was odd how the boy’s name felt so foreign to his lips, he never really said it that much. His tone was shaky and weak but still audible and his eyes peeked past his hair and eyelashes to look into Draven’s, seeming cold and dark; they lacked life.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t m-mean…anything…I d-did to you. I h-hope y-you can f-forg-give me…f-for some of it…m-maybe.” He didn’t really know what he was saying, why he was saing it; but it was coming out. He gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod before his eyes shut again and he leaned back against the tree. There was so much he wanted to say, so many apologies he needed to give; but there was only so much he could say. His breath was coming shorter now and he pushed out another sentence once more, leaving his breathing a ragged mess afterwards.

“S-sorry…for c-clingi-ing to y-you so much…I j-just…w-wish I could be…l-like you more…h-handle things…like y-you more…” He used his hand to notion to the metallic instrument lodged into his side before opening his eyes again- or well, his right eye, seeing as though the left wouldn’t open. Even though the boy had shaky breathing as if he had just ran a marathon; he didn’t care. He let the smallest of grins slip onto his mouth before speaking up one final time.

“A-at least…if I d-die…I’ll k-know I got to h-hug you…o-once…b-before it…” The grin turned into a warm smile, because he wanted Draven to know that he was happy now. Francois felt like there was nothing more he could apologize for, even if he wanted to, and so he let his eyes slip shut and his head lean back against the tree, panting slightly. He didn’t honestly care if he died now. He just cared that Draven would be all right in the end. He let his right hand move around to clamp against his left hand roughly to keep it from shaking and trembling.

It was just a matter of time…and yet Francois felt content.

He felt safe because of the being around him.

[/size]

[draven cole arrow]

Draven knew all about people leaving. He knew plenty of friendships, relationships, families who had broken apart because someone couldn’t face a problem and they decided to run and hide and cover it all up instead. Life was about owning up to things you did and trying your best to solve them – it was a puzzle. But a lot of people thought if they only had a redo button, or a remote control where they could just rewind and try a different tactic. It didn’t happen. Life didn’t have buttons. It didn’t have a chance to pause and breathe and think either. Life was all about split second decisions and trusting your gut instinct. And when things went wrong, everyone thought trying to erase the past and start over by cutting ties with everyone else was always the best option. But erasing [or in other words, ignoring] your problems or your past could just make everything worse. It was better to think things through and think into people’s best interest, not just yours. People had feelings and they got hurt all the time. It’s not ever easy for everyone at one point to be happy. Draven had learned this, and it had made it so much easier for him to take into account that, hey, he wasn’t superman. He couldn’t always have what he wanted, and neither could everyone else. Which was probably what Francois was having trouble grasping. Or maybe he was thinking that he had to carry the weight all on his shoulders? Or maybe Draven was just completely in the dark. Francois didn’t seem very strong to Draven. He broke under everything, and Draven was glad that he succumbed to some emotions. It was better to be sensitive and in tune to what you were feeling than to be like a brick wall and not respond to your own heart, like Draven. Maybe both Draven and Francois had a ton to work on, obviously. It was like each person had a little of the trait that the other person needed, and they just had to share or trade off or something. But Draven couldn’t do that if the person he still considered his friend was laying on the forest floor dying because of something that Draven wasn’t sure could have been avoided.

One thing that Francois really needed to know about Draven was that he was not Superman. That being the main point. He may have acted like things like leaving his mom and being alone in a different country didn’t affect him, but just because Draven didn’t focus on them didn’t mean they didn’t hurt him at all. Draven just had a different way of “breaking down”. That or he knew it was smart not to get him to that point at all. He didn’t cry, he got violent. Either way, he’d hurt himself. And it was better if that just didn’t happen. Draven stayed close to the boy as they waited for…whoever was coming. An ambulance or two, he was sure. Possibly a cop car? He was sure that they wouldn’t need a fire truck, there wasn’t really any need for that. 9-1-1 knew what they were doing, he was just going to let them do their thing. His eyes moved to the lifeless body on the ground. Francois’s…father? He had killed his father? What was his father even doing here at the school? What was this deranged man thinking, coming all this way to America to try and kill Francois!? The slight thought that Francois’s mother might have been severely hurt as well crossed Draven’s mind, but he wouldn’t bring it up to the boy against the tree to freak out about. He was already in bad shape. He didn’t want to make him anymore worried or stressed out. Draven snapped out of his small spiel of thinking, looking back to the boy as he spoke. God, he sounded fucking horrible. And he looked really terrifying. Draven could get past the blood and gore, that was fine. It was Francois’s eyes that freaked him out to no end. They almost looked…possessed. Or like he wasn’t really there. Draven was almost timing the emergency vehicles in his head. What the hell was taking them so long? Draven shook his head, listening as the boy spoke, before pressing a finger to Francois’s lips for a millisecond to shut him up. ”You didn’t do anything, is fine. You did great…you’re handling fine.”

[/color] Draven didn’t know what he was saying either, but god, Francois needed to save his breath. ”Just relax.”[/color]

Staying on the phone, Draven took a breath, just paying attention to Francois. When the boy grinned, a frown slipped onto Draven’s features, his eyes getting a bit edgy. Why did Francois think dying would be the answer? Draven had already had to live through his father dying, he wasn’t going to live through his friend dying too just because he might’ve wanted to. It was Draven’s turn to be selfish. Draven shook his head, moving to sit by the boy, looking over at him. ”That’s complete shit Francois. I tell you…you live through this now…and I’ll actually give you one.”[/color] Not to get the boy’s hopes up, but he was giving him at least a little will to pull through. The boy wouldn’t have any trouble after this, he had killed the source of it. As the boy breathed, Draven heard the sirens, and he scrambled to his feet, looking to Francois, ”I’ll be back…”[/color] He ran to meet the paramedics half way, hanging up with the 9-1-1 dispatcher as instructed, leading them back to Francois and the corpse, standing out of the way as the medical persons split up to check on each victim, giving more attention to Francois, slowly lifting him up and putting him on a stretcher, Draven following after them as they took him back to the truck. Looking behind his shoulder, Draven saw the men covering Francois’s father with a sheet, and he knew that they were going to block off the entire scene of the crime. Draven wasn’t going to stand around. He wasn’t a direct witness, he couldn’t tell them much of anything. He just knew somehow that he should go with Francois. Let people know where they were and what went wrong. Oh god, he could just see the Headmistress’s face. She’d be livid. Though it was probably something they couldn’t have prevented. How could they monitor all of the woods? Accidents happened all the time. He looked down at Francois, climbing into the ambulance with him. ”Just hang on Francois.”[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Breathing was becoming more and more of a challenge. As the seconds ticked by and the moments fall apart, Francois was finding that his chest felt like it had some sort of huge ass weight on it, and he didn’t understand it. He listened to the boy speak, and he couldn’t help but disagree, but the finger that was placed on his lips told him not to speak. Instead he just nodded a little and kept going with his ragged, shallow breaths. It was odd sometimes, how Francois seemed to almost idolize the way Draven handled things. He wanted to be able to do that. He wanted to be able to get through things the way the other boy did, and he didn’t want to run from them. Well, Francois figured he wasn’t running from anything anymore now; his eyes strolled to the dead body lying just beyond him, and there was some type of…relief that washed over him at the sight. It was a morbid relief, but it was relief nonetheless. It told him that he could be safe…and that everything would be okay from now on. The boy’s emerald orbs moved back to Draven as he spoke, Francois feeling his eyes widen a little in disbelief. There was no way in hell Draven would ever give him a hug, but he imagined the boy was just giving him some type of hope and will to pull through.

Well it worked. Francois felt himself take in a strained deep breath; he was going to get through this. Then there were sirens. He felt his heart beat quicken a little as the other boy got up, fear suddenly gripping at him like never before. He nodded when Draven said he would be right back; and then he was gone. The boy felt his fingers close around the leaf and dirt under them, before he was back in a second. He watched helpless as people, paramedics, moved him to a lying position and put him on a stretcher of sorts. He gave a little groan as they picked him up, and when they were moving, there was more of the ever-present fear. Where was Draven? Was he coming with them? Was he leaving? His emerald orbs searched frantically for the boy as he was brought into ambulance. His breathing picked up just a little as they shut the doors and he felt them begin to move, and the nurse turned away, grabbing an IV and inserting it into Francois right arm. At that moment he felt himself jump a little and his left hand pushed out, weakly grabbing onto one of Draven’s fingers. He looked over, his hand was trembling and he spoke in a tiny voice as the woman in the ambulance continued to do things.

“I-I’m s-scared…Draven.” He felt his grip loosen before completely dropping to his side as a mask was placed over his mouth, but unwillingly.

For once, Francois would fight unconsciousness with everything he had left.


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Francois felt himself tossing and turning behind the comforting blanket of darkness, before he was suddenly sitting up. Cold sweat ran down the front and back of his neck, and his whole body was shaking. Goosebumps ravaged his arms, unwillingly fighting for prevalence on his creamy skin. He shuddered as he caught whiff of the bleachy-clean hospital smell. The boy looked down at himself and a gasp gently broke through his exterior. His hands were bruised and had cuts on them. They were gripping onto the bed sheets like they were the only things holding him to this earth and they were trembling more than his entire body. He gently looked down the hospital dress he was in, and felt another way of shock hit him. There was a large spot on the side of him that was covered with a large piece of gauze and there was wrapping all around his torso. He felt tears well in his eyes before his palm went up to viciously rub at them, disintegrating any trace of water from his lids. He let his arms gently surround himself and hug himself, his whole body shaking as he propped himself up against the headboard of the bed. He was gnawing at his bottom lip rather savagely, making it raw and not being able to notice. His whole being felt numb and distant…and he hated it. He brought his thumb to brush against his wrist and felt close to nothing but a mere tingle. That was when the boy gave up. He slumped back and down a little, bringing the sheets close to him as his head fell against the headboard, turning to look out the window as a single tear dripped down his right eye.

The memories were flooding back.

And the dam was breaking.

[/size]