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 Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2015 10:31 pm
I'm just an average man with an average life
Horace was not the lightest of sleepers, but sometimes Jan's voice woke him. Well, it was coming from Jan, but there were a multitude of accents and slipped from between his lips. Horace loved it - it was like seeing some other, more vulnerable side of this man.
"Shh, you don't have to do anything," he whispered and wondered who Lars was. He didn't usually respond back: it wasn't often full, comprehensible stages. Horace didn't know if words helped or if he should wake Jan. He remembered a night when he'd woken to find Jan sitting straight up in bed, staring at nothing, seeing nothing. When Jan curled, Horace reached out a hand to cup the nape of his neck, fingers gently touching the short hair there. He wanted to protect him, but he wasn't strong enough yet.
"I love you."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:10 am
vanity
"Shorn hair is much neater." he said. And you didn't lose so many hairs that could be evidence at a later crime scene - but did that matter here? - there were other forensic means they appeared to have, and that was even discounting the seemingly all-pervasive surveillance. "But longer is more decadent, more luxuriant. I prefer your hair long." he stated finally. "One could say I savour feminine aesthetics."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:15 am
I'm just an average man with an average life
The contact seemed to relax Lawr at first, the mumbling abated, but then at the statement of love he stirred. Still fast asleep a slender hand came up to touch Horace's throat, almost dotingly at first before the grip got tighter, before Lawr had him by the neck, restricting his breathing.
"Jag älskar dig" he hissed, nails biting into Horace's flesh, before as quickly as it came, all the tension bonelessly went out of him and he resumed sleep as if nothing had happened at all.
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:19 am
hate culture
"What sort of change?" he asked lightly, taking Horace's hand and leading him into the perfectly ordered room with its twisted lamp.
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:24 am
the nights were made
"You shoulder the weight of my unpopularity and for that I am sorry." he said, turning his full and intense attention on the other man. "You do not deserve the comments you receive from others on this island, and yet you still reach out an olive branch to them." He set down the book, releasing it from the awkward grip necessary to both hold it and turn the pages with one hand and instead touched Horace's jaw affectionately.
"It is not for lack of trying or lack of likeability. People here are simply broken, manic and damaged by their inability to aim for a conventional future or family. They take human nature from society and twist it around a monster. Sometimes it breaks people, sometimes they are already broken. You are a rarity, normal and beautiful, do not let them break you."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:27 am
things you cannot say tomorrow day
It was good that Horace couldn't see Lawr's smile at his comments.
"Interesting."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:30 am
not a victory march
"It is not about what I deserve." the pale and slender man said dismissively as he was pulled inside, passive and graceful, but the grace quickly snarling up into something else beyond the door, his hand clenching in fabric and leaning into the other man, teeth against his ear, lips brushing him as he spoke. "It is about what I want."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 4:11 pm
things you cannot say tomorrow day
"At least you didn't laugh." He took a deep breath, feeling better for telling someone and not just anyone, but Jan. "I'm not sayin' you should do things to me if you don-" Horace cut himself off, yawning. Even when the yawn was done, he didn't finish the sentence. If Horace said he'd never thought anout Jan doing that sort of thing to him, he'd be lying. Lying, lying, lying. But Jan would do as he wished. Horace turned to press his eyes into the pillow, hair falling sleekly around his face.
"Anyway," he said, sleepy voice muffled by the pillow. "I though' I'd... let ya know."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:03 pm
hate culture
The lamp fascinated Horace. It seemed so strange and different among everything else. Maybe one day he'd ask about it. For now, he intertwined his fingers with Jan's. "Hmm, your cologne maybe? Or shampoo. You smell a little different."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:15 pm
not a victory march
He sucked in a sharp breath. "Anything of me that you want - it is yours." And if Jan wanted, by some miracle, if Jan wanted all of him, he could have it.
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:20 pm
I'm just an average man with an average life
For a moment, he almost pulled at the hand. Horace felt the nails bite into his throat, heard the whispered, foreign words. And then limp silence. He did not sleep again, and only watched the soft rise and fall of Jan's chest.
He was full of questions, but lacked the words to form them, so he did not ask.
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:42 pm
the nights were made
"I am not as special as you paint me to be." He captured Jan's hand and turned his head so he could kiss the palm. It hurt not to be liked - it was something deeply ingrained in him that to be liked was to be worth something, after all. Horace felt the weight of Jan's eyes on him. "I don't think I will ever understand the animosity people feel towards you. You deserve none of it, either. And it makes me so angry - you didn't choose to be here!" He paused for a second, lips twisting. Horace could rant against their prejudices for hours, but nothing would change.
"I do feel broken, yet. And I think it's enough if only you were to like me, after all. I can want other to like me, but I don't need them" Not like he needed Jan. "Though, I think the pursuit of some type of normality in life here ain't so bad."
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Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:46 pm
anchor He paused, a flick of blue eyes towards Jan. "Is there a story behind the lamp?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 5:13 pm
hate culture
"My cologne." the slender blonde man said effortlessly. I have been dabbling in a new scent. There was a subtle arch of an eyebrow. "Does it displease you?" he asked. It displeased him, any scent at all did, his senses tuned so finely now that perfumes were sensory nails on a chalkboard, giving him migraines and on some low level tormenting him throughout the day. But needs must, he told himself.
"I felt like it was one of the better ones."
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 5:19 pm
anchor
Those cold blue eyes flicked to the lamp, twisted up and yet somehow beautiful, held together with clay between the fragments, asymmetrical and simplistic. It had taken effort to repair, learning to understand how the wiring worked and replacing damaged runic converters, sometimes at a cost. He remembered the moment when it had been broken, the statement that the lamp was him, that it represented how broken he was. It had only seemed logical at the time to pick up the pieces and put it back together, because that was what his life was, it was making something beautiful out of the things that were different in him, making it different but functional, something more than it was.
"It was broken in an argument I had with America." he said, truthfully for once. "She has no qualms about destroying my property and if the chance arose to elude consequence I would not be surprised if she destroyed me. I repaired it, picked up the pieces and recreated it, made it anew. I was not about to lie down and tolerate it." he smiled faintly at it. "It is defiance, it works better than it did before and I sculpted it."
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