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 Posted: Sun May 09, 2010 11:24 pm
"It's all right," she said, brushing his hair back; she didn't know what else to say, and so instead she repeated it, lamely. "It's all right." There were a million ways Ladon was useful, she thought; he was fun, and cheerful, and he did his best to keep up always, and he kept her company while she played violent videogames (though now she was glad she'd played Kirby instead of Silent Hill).
She sighed and wiped at his eyes with the backs of her fingers. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, you dummy." The brunette shifted back on her bed so she could lean against the wall, still keeping her friend close. "No one will hate you, Ladon. You survived--who could hate you for surviving?"
Well, she could possibly see hating someone for surviving if she hadn't. But not Ladon. Never Ladon. "Do you think you can sleep now," she asked, resting her cheek on the top of his head.
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 6:47 am
Ladon's breathing was becoming calmer, still shaking in little huffs, and his eyes were now only a trickle of the flood from before. He didn't look at her, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for being this way in front of her, and for dumping a lot of issues that were not her own on her doorstep when she had enough to deal with. He always wanted to be the strong foundation for her since she often seemed to need someone to rely on. How could she feel like he was a steady source to turn to when she saw that he was just as easy to break down as she was.
There was nothing else he could say so he listened to her instead. There were plenty of people who could say he was not fit to live when other, more capable people died. There were people who could wonder why someone as small, as weak, and as unpleasant to be around was worthy enough to be kept alive when better people had passed on. Braver people, but he was alive, and there was no changing that. He wasn't as dramatic as to do something as drastic as taking his own life. He knew that didn't fix anything, and so he did what he was doing now. Surviving. Living. Getting by day by day, even if he wasn't with dry eyes.
He nodded his head. "I think I can sleep now." He said, but still held lightly to her shirt or what little there was. "Can you...stay here with me?"
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Posted: Tue May 18, 2010 9:09 pm
He seemed like he was better. Tate peered down at him, noticed his embarrassment and bit her lip; it irritated a scab, so she ground her teeth a little bit harder. "You're fine," she promised, sliding down a bit on her covers. Poor Ladon--he felt responsible for just about everything, didn't he? He was too mature for his face, and she forgot that sometimes in favor of thinking of him as two years younger than her, someone who would never venture outside her experience. He was sensitive, and she preferred to think of herself more as Heather Mason--able to handle whatever came along. And she could, but that didn't make him any less adult for needing to cry. "And what made you think I was going to leave?"
She paused for a bit, closing her dark eyes. In the shadowy darkness of her room, they didn't even make a leap for green-gray like they did in natural light. Her eyes were straight black in the dark. After a long silence, she tugged Ladon down next to her on her pillows. "I do intend to sleep, though." It was a lame attempt to lighten the mood. "Wake me up if you need me?"
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Posted: Tue May 18, 2010 10:01 pm
She didn’t poke fun at him, or refuse his awkward request, and for that he could feel a few knots loosening, relaxing him. To know he at least had an anchor close by to hold on to was enough to make him feel he could move past this emotional episode of his and fall asleep with some sense of security. Usually Theodore, Tate’s oversized moose did the trick, but he had needed something more than what cotton and polyester fibers could offer, and Tate provided that.
Easing down next to her on the pillows, he adjusted the covers, not wanting either one of them to be cold, and set them over reach other. The fact he was under the covers in the bed of a girl did not pass by without a faint recognition, but he was too tired and too humiliated to feel that this was romantic. Instead, he felt touched she was putting up with him, bothering to keep him company when it would have been less of a bother for her to sleep comfortably in her own sleeping back. Yet she didn’t leave, and he laid down, watching her large, black eyes glisten in the dark before her eyelids, bordered by sweeping curves of dark lashes, started to close. In the slight turn of her small nose, the soft turn of her lips, and the tiny wrinkles around her cheeks, he could see she was trying to cheer him up, and he smiled at her attempt. “Sorry for keeping you up. I’ve never been good with slumber parties.” He weakly teased back, the full weight of his exhaustion weighing down on him with each passing second.
Quiet not, he let his eyes start to close, but not before pulling the covers up to his face, enough to feel safe but not without hiding his eyes should he find himself waking up in the middle of the night and wanting to see if she really was still there. “Thank you, Tate…” He whispered, voice brushing against the covers. “…..good night.” He turned his head in towards her pillows, and closed his eyes, but not releasing the one hand still curled into her shirt.
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