Welcome to Gaia! ::

Yeah, I kinda want to try my hand at this but I don't think I will. I have no idea what others think of my writing but I think it suck so I'm not going to participate. But I cant wait to see what kind of stuff gets posted here.

Warning for teh ghey. Yep. Warned.

Moving sucked. Fortunately, Henri had never really owned too many personal possessions, but that hadn't kept him from bending a fingernail backwards while he was fumbling with boxes. At least he'd been able to hire somebody to carry his mattress up the steep, claustrophobic stairs to the upper loft. Honestly, it was about all the money he had left, but watching the movers struggling convinced him it was worth it. Besides, after that, all he had was a box of clothes and a lamp to carry. Not even a frame for his bed.

All of the rest of his attention and effort went into the bakery; he already knew everything he'd need for what he wanted to do-- and thank God the place had already been outfitted. Of course that was part of the reason he and Linda had chosen this particular location to set up, but he couldn't help but feel more than lucky as he meandered around the kitchen, setting things up. God, he was going to be in debt forever. Then again, maybe part of him was counting on just that to keep him grounded; maybe if he felt like he didn't have the option to ******** up, he'd try harder. ********. He hoped he'd stay grounded.

For the first time in his whole goddamn life things were going right-- and he hated feeling like it was only a matter of time before he went crazy again and ******** everything up. After all, it had happened too many times to count already, hadn't it? It was realistic to expect that he'd do something stupid again.

At least he'd try to take his time before he fell headlong into disaster. The bakery was on a side of town he'd never lived near before, and it helped not knowing anybody that might draw him back into all that s**t he was trying to get away from, but still... being back in London made him uneasy. It made him think about all the people he'd left, all the things he'd done before he'd gone, all the reasons he'd needed to run in the first place.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but think about James. Oh, for ******** sake, who was he kidding? He'd been thinking about James for the past five years, and it wasn't like he was going to stop any time soon anyway. England smelled like James to Henri, felt like James, looked like James. Sometimes it almost made him wish he'd never come back. Hell, but where would he have gone? France? His mother had been from France... but no. He'd already learned German, even some Turkish, he'd already been homeless and hungry long enough, and he was just... done. He wanted a job, wanted a place of his own, wanted to be okay without being drunk every night. He didn't want to watch the people he loved change anymore. He didn't want to be stuck doing things he knew he never, ever should have started doing in the first place. He didn't want to feel like he'd do anything just be somebody he wasn't anymore.
God, he'd been an idiot.

Maybe the hardest part was that now, with all that behind him, and everything he wanted in front of him, he still didn't feel grown up. Didn't feel responsible. He just felt... older. He tried not to think about how tired he got these days, but it was better than not being able to remember year-sized chunks of his own life.

He was on anti-depressants now, trying to stay the hell away from Lithium and self-medication for the first time in what, eight years? But he knew it wasn't going to be easy. He was trying to start all over, trying to stay sane and motivated, trying to be okay with being alone, and... it was hard.

Henri hated being alone. He knew that part of this was because he was manic-depressive, and he knew that he made terrible decisions when he was manic... but he also knew that there wasn't much of a point to thinking about it too hard. He was a different person when he was manic, and any advice he could give himself now wouldn't matter. It was kind of scary when he thought about it like that.


Sitting up on his sheetless mattress at the end of the day, looking out the french windows at his small, iron-railed balcony, he started to wish that he attracted more responsible people. He wished he had somebody who could help him when he got crazy-- That had been Pick for a while, until she got lost in all the stuff he'd brought her into. After that, she hadn't been his anymore. It was his own fault.

He still felt sick when he thought of what he'd left her with, but he'd begged her to come with him, and she'd refused. She felt like she had something there, and maybe she did-- but it wasn't any way to live. He never wanted to think about how sure he was that that was the last time he'd ever see her. He tried to stay optimistic about it, but mostly that just meant trying not to think about her. He'd left before she'd even had her baby because he couldn't stand the idea of bringing a child into the places they'd been living.

He wished he could have been stronger for her, wished he could have pulled her out, or even just stayed with her to help her get better-- but he knew that it had been all he could do to leave. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer there.


After all that, though, nothing had hurt worse than seeing his father again. He'd cried. His father had cried. He'd compounded this image of his father as such a sick and horrible, hateful man in his mind, and the only reason he'd come back at all is because he was so far gone that he didn't care anymore. He just needed help. Honestly, he'd almost expected to be turned away or railed upon, but no... And now here he was, clean, healthy, in charge of his very own cafe and bakery... Well, it was his step mother's, really, but in a way it was his.

He wished James could see him like this, on medication, on good terms with his father, his own place, a steady job for more than six months... Henri had been back in the country for over a year now, and he'd been working with Linda in one of her cafe's the whole time. He'd saved for doctor's appointments and second-hand clothes, and now, after a year, she was so impressed with his flare for cooking and coffee that she'd let him go off on his own. That and he badly needed a place of his own. He could never thank her enough for understand that, for being the mother he'd always needed, even if it had only been for a year. She was so good for his father.

There was, of course, a little part of Henri that hated seeing his father so happy and whole, because it just made him realize how little he'd understood him, how sad and unhappy the man had been Henri's whole life, and how little Henri had done to try and help. Well, they were both ******** up. Now, maybe, they'd get better. Henri just wished that it had happened sooner.

He wondered if James ever thought about him anymore. Maybe he was married. Maybe he'd just completely erased Henri from his mind all together-- he wouldn't have been surprised. He'd always known that James had never, for a second, actually wanted to be in a real relationship with Henri, but that something had kept them together anyway. Maybe it was just hormones or teen-age rebellion, or maybe the devil was real, and he just wanted to devour James's Irish Catholic soul.

Was it love if it was one-sided?

Out of all the things he'd lost and thrown away and burned over the years, Henri had managed to hang onto that picture he'd taken of James's broken nose. No matter how many times he'd told himself to throw the ******** thing away, he'd never been able to bring himself to actually do it. Maybe he just wasn't ready to let go yet, or maybe he just missed the feeling of being in love... He'd been with a lot of people since he'd left five years ago, but he'd never again, even for a second, felt the way he felt about James. It was good to know he was capable of feeling that way at all, and maybe that was why he couldn't get rid of the picture.

Sometimes his heart just needed a reminder of how good life could really be.


Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation

Yupp.

I really liked your latest post by the way. I was sad when it ended because I wanted to read more.

Omgggg <3

Well I can tell you the life story of Henri and James from when they were like 12 on to 24. That's all we had worked out.

They became friends because they were forcably assigned to a science project together when they were 12, I THINK... maybe 13... anyway James is a good Irish Catholic boy and Henri is crazy and bipolar, and fell in love with James pretty soon after that. He ODed just before his 16th birthday (unconscious for sweet 16!) then when they were 17, seniors, Henri was like JAMES I LOVE YOU and James was like buhhhh? And then they made out. A lot. Anyway they also fought like non-stop and Henri was like Waaahhhh and ran away to Germany with this girl named Pick who was a runaway from a young age, and they were dirty and homeless together.

Pick got a mean boyfriend and got into meth and Henri was like THIS SUCKS I NEED TO GO HOME, and came back to England at 20. Pick was pregnant when he left, with jerk-off's kid. Henri came home and his father had re-married while he was gone (his mother died when he was 4 in a car accident) And his step mom, Linda, owned a bunch of little bakeries. He worked for her for a year and then she was like, pushing him out of the nest, and he was like yay my own life 'n stuff.

Meanwhile James had gone to school, tried to forget about Henri, met a girl named Morgan, I believe, and had gotten engaged. He's now an assistant professor at a college, and eventually, when Henri is like 22/23, he finds James and just can't stop himself from going and saying hello. James is like OM NOM NOM HENRI, dumps his woman and moves in with Henri and life is wonderful... for a while.

Pick dies of ovarian cancer and leaves her baby girl, Katze, to Henri since Kat's daddy took off a while ago and Pick doesn't want any of the meth-addled people around her taking care of Katze, and she doesn't want her to be an orphan or whatever. So Henri gets this little five year old girl and James is like WHAT. But they both fall in love with her and James moves them to his empty house in Ireland, where he grew up, because he wants her to go to school there. Well, that and Henri's loft is a studio and James is like IT IS SO BEYOND IMPROPER TO SLEEP IN THE SAME BED WHILE WE HAVE A FIVE YEAR OLD IN THE ROOM. Anyway so they go to Ireland and this big house that James was left by some relative-- But, of course, since its full of Catholics there, Henri skulks around the house a lot and James is the only one who ever goes to get Katze from school because Henri is too dirty and they don't want to arouse suspicion XD

There was more drama and Henri kind of went crazy and they broke up again and James was like I AM GOING TO KIDNAP KATZE... but that's as far as we got. Legally, Katze belongs to Henri, but frankly, I like to pretend that last bit never happened since we never got beyond it... I like to imagine them living happily ever after XD


Also, I have no idea what I'm doing for 67%

Warning for blood and stuff.

Inis was exhausted, though he could hardly imagine how Ashley must bee feeling; he'd had it so much worse. He must be so deeply beyond tired after their long flight from captivity, and now he was prepping himself to be on the receiving end of a fairly painful procedure that, had the person doing it been a highly skilled orthodontist instead of an awkward mechanic, would still require more than just whiskey to dull the pain. But whiskey was all they had, and Ashley kept insisting they share.

“Nothing you could ever do could hurt me more than they already have,” Ashley kept reminding Inis through his clenched teeth. “They cu' open my ********' face an' drilled a plate inta my jaw. While I was awake.” He paused to take a wrathful swig from the Jack Daniel's bottle and then said, “Jus' get these ********' wires off.”

After Ash had broken his jaw, they'd cut him open and screwed a plate into his bones. Then they'd wired the arch bars to his teeth and tied them together. It hadn't taken long for Ash's gums to grow down around the wires; it wasn't like they had let him floss. In fact, from the look of his mouth, it seemed as though they'd gone out of their way to leave the wires sharp and uncomfortable; Ash's gums and the insides of his lips were covered in not quite infected little sores. The funny thing, Innis thought, was that everything they'd done was standard mandibular fracture and facial reconstruction procedure. That was they way they did things, though. They manipulated things, turned the procedures that were, in theory, supposed to be helpful into torture.

When they'd escaped, Ash made it clear that the first thing they had to do was get those damn wires off his teeth before his jaw calcified shut. Neither of them were doctors, not even close, but Ash had brought up the example of a group of people in Asia, he thought, who walked around with their hands in the air until their shoulders froze that way. He didn't think he could cope with living the rest of his life not being able to open his mouth.

Innis didn't blame him. Ash was half starved as it was, and in the past few days since they'd been on their own, one of the hardest things to find on the fly was anything that Ash could not only consume, but sustain himself on as they fled. Innis had no idea how Ash had managed to keep going. Inis was having enough trouble finding the energy to continue himself, and he could eat anything he wanted.


Tonight they were in a cheap motel bathroom, each of them perched on the cracked, plastic tub, passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth while Inis tried not to stare at Ashley's scars. Though the T-shaped scar on his face was perhaps the most easily identifiable and wretched to think on, it wasn't the only thing that had happened to him in the Hell's Hospital, as Inis liked to call the place. He'd come in with a broken jaw, broken ribs, a broken arm and several superficial cuts and wounds-- not to mention a partially severed finger that they hadn't actually bothered to sew back on straight. He told Inis that his facial piercings hadn't actually been ripped out until after he got to the hospital. It made Inis feel sick.

Still, most of his wounds were on the way to healing, and they'd actually kept his finger from becoming gangrenous, presumably because they liked having their toys in good shape before they broke them again, and the only really raw wounds Ash still had were in his mouth. Inis didn't know how much longer he could watch Ashley hiss and wince as the whiskey burned at all the raw little corkscrew cuts and nicks inside the boy's mouth. His teeth were in bad shape. His whole mouth was, really. Inis couldn't say he was particularly looking forward to the task at hand, either.


The pair of needle nose pliers they'd borrowed from the front desk were resting on the dirty sink, waiting for Ash to give the green light. They really should have gone to a hospital, but in light of the circumstances, they'd had to make do with the pliers. Not exactly dental equipment, but it was all they had. Ash took his last swig of whiskey, as Inis turned the pliers over in his fingers, draining the rest of the bottle in several gulps before shaking his head violently and slapping his palms down on his thighs. “Holy ********, I can' feel my ********' legs,” he growled, wiping some spit off his chin with the back of his forearm. “Le's do this.”

Without the benefit of an anesthetic, borderline alcohol poising would have to be sufficient. Inis just hoped it would make it easier on him as well- Ash might be the on in pain, but Inis didn't like the idea of actually being the one causing it... Even though he knew he was helping, in the long run.

Mumbling something agreeable, Inis swayed a little on the lip of the tub as he leaned over to grab the pliers. 'Now or never,' he thought, feeling the heat of the whiskey settling in over his nose and lips like a mask. ******** it.

“Open up,” he commanded with a degree of authority that startled him.

Ashley did as he was told, however, grinning eerily as he leaned forward and presented his ruined teeth to Inis, who, despite the alcohol, was fighting the urge to recoil. “Come on, man,” Ash said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “Do I gotta do this shi' myself? This drunk? I'll cut my face off, man.”

“No, no,” Inis said quickly, shaking his head and then wishing he hadn't. “I'm okay. Sorry.”

“That bad, huh?” Ash said, looking up at the ceiling as Inis steeled himself and leaned in towards Ashley's scarred and twisted grin with the pliers, looking for the most appropriate wire to start untangling. He wished they could have gotten their hands on a pair of damn wire cutters. Before he could decide, however, Ash popped his finger into his mouth and pulled back his left cheek, trying to voice some unintelligible instructions. Though Inis didn't have a clue what Ashley was trying to say, it became pretty clear where Ash wanted him to start working.

Inis almost gagged, actually, as he tried to inspect a deep, probably infected wound on the inside of Ash's cheek. It was clearly caused by one of many improperly cut wires that Inis couldn't help but feel like they'd left that way on purpose. Either way, it was obvious why Ash wanted him to start there.

Until Ash grinned lopsidedly and nodded, Inis hadn't even realized he was wincing.

“Okay,” he breathed, moving in with the little pliers again, navigating around Ashley's dirty finger and filthy, white wounds to clamp onto the thin, sharp edge of wire. Ash started making little noises of discomfort as Inis fiddled patiently with the wires. Later, when Ash had started bleeding, Inis had made him lean forward to keep him from choking. It kept Ash from guzzling down blood on top of an empty stomach full of whiskey, but there was no way to keep it from dripping down Inis's arms in sticky rivers as he tried to twist the wires free from Ashley's teeth.

It was lucky blood didn't bother Inis; Ash, on the other hand, was on the verge of fainting by the time Inis had gotten both of the bars free, but Inis didn't blame him. It had taken almost an hour, and Ash was weak enough as it was. The smell of blood and spit and alcohol was thick in the air, heavy and metallic, and slightly sour in a way that Ash couldn't stand even at his best. The thing that really shook Inis up, however, was when Ash, reasonably overeager after months of not being able to open his mouth, had immediately wrenched his teeth apart before Inis, the wires still clenched in his pliers, had even gotten the bars an inch away from Ashley's bloody lips.

He didn't think Ash had even meant to do it, that he'd gotten so used to trying to stretch his jaws without success that what he'd done had been more of a sort of thoughtless spasm. Until then, Ash had taken everything in a reasonable sort of silence, even making pathetic, uncomfortable, stifled attempts at laughter while he drooled blood all over Inis and the floor. The noise he'd made when he'd wrenched his jaw had been shocking in its severity and intimidating enough to make Inis gasp in surprise and almost drop the pliers on the sticky bathroom floor.

It had started as a slow growl that crescendoed into a deep, furious scream of aggressive frustration and pain. Ashley immediately doubled over and cupped his chin in the soft flesh of his palms while Inis looked on, shaken, frozen and not quite sure how to respond.

After that, Ash had cursed once, quietly, and dropped his head level with his knees while he tried to catch his breath. It took Inis a moment to recover as well-- his initial feeling had been an unnerving, instinctual fear that sucked his breath right out of his chest. His heart was still jarring his ribs as he reached up and dropped the arch bars into the sink a minute later.

"This is so ******** up," Ash murmured without really opening his mouth. Inis couldn't argue.

“We've got another bottle,” was all he said, looking down at the blood on his hands and wishing he wasn't so drunk. He needed to find some soap in a bad way. “Vodka.”

“I'm about to throw up already,” Ash managed to say without really moving his jaw. “I hate blood.”

Inis pushed himself up and around until he could reach the faucet in the tub, which was easier than standing up to reach the sink. The metal stuck to the pads of his fingers briefly as he twisted the water on. “You sure bled a lot,” he said conversationally.

Ash shrugged and pushed himself off the edge of the tub so he could slump against it. “Alcohol is an anti-coagulant,” he said, his words trembling with exhaustion. “Most of it is probably drool anyway.”

“Yeah,” was all Inis could think to say. He wanted a ******** cigarette.

Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation

gonk Poor Ashley.

I want you to post more!! Damn it.

Yeah... Ash is totally a babe. :3 I gotta post the picture I drew of him the other day!

Man, recently I wrote two more Ashley-related things, but they're not for the challenge. I'm thinking about making an Ash thread.