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 Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 12:34 pm
why
An ultimatum: later, or get it himself. He's got half a mind to go and kick Isaac's a** in his own room. The other half is afraid to see him, because it knows what'd happen instead.
Shame rolls over him in waves, coupled with nausea, with disgust, with self-hatred more than anything.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 5:26 pm
swelter
His frustration with the surveillance grows with every passing second. It's an ache, a film on his tongue, his teeth. It crawls just beneath his skin, electricity and rage. It's being alive, it's realizing what he's missed out on, it's everything he's never experienced before.
He's tapped the vein. He's an addict. He doesn't care; the ugliness between them is the drug.
"Perhaps after this we should take a walk."
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 5:31 pm
sophistry
He feels like he has to justify his hunger. He feels like he must explain why he is not himself. He lives his days in a cloud of self-loathing and it's dark and disgusting and he's disgusting and disgusted but he owns it, he owns it.
He sometimes isn't certain that this is what he wants and it's a struggle that he fights with every day; it's a struggle until the flashback comes and he remembers the school and then he is a monster who needs to feed, a beast who needs to hunt and he hates himself. The loathing is vile and bitter and nothing he does makes it go away.
One morning he wakes up and he swears to himself, he promises himself that he will keep his distance.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 5:43 pm
swelter
Leslie turns the page and his mouth is dry, the words a blur that he'll need to reread later, the meaning evaporating on the winds of promise. Static buzzes in his ears. He looks up, face half obscured by messy curls, and Leslie sucks his lower lip in to bite, so hard it would be bleeding if it weren't for his shield.
"Yeah," he agrees, "whatever."
He wants to tackle Isaac and swing until they stop moving. He wants to shove Isaac into the ocean and hold his head beneath the water, until the tables turn and he's the one underwater, his life in someone else's hands, hands he doesn't even trust. Not entirely.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 7:37 pm
sophistry
He called Isaac a two-faced ********, but. Maybe he truly was capable of such kindness to others-- to people who deserved it -- and cruelty to the rest. He didn't know. He certainly wore multiple faces, when he needed to.
Abbi and America and Jack and the clone others knew his delicate underbelly. Knew that he was broken and wounded and still licking his wounds, even ten years down the line.
So maybe. Maybe Isaac just knew what he was dealing with. He looked through the shields and saw the nothingness beneath. Leslie knew his worth: less than zero, and now it wasn't just strangers he sought out that wanted to remind him. Leslie is nothing but the sum of his parts, a total that leaves him in the red. He is metal welded together into a facsimile of a person, the kind rang hollow when struck.
It's not as if he doesn't function: Leslie does anything that's asked of him with bitching coupled with a dogged determination. He eats, he drinks, he fights and it's just, now he --
He scrubs at his face. If Isaac was two-faced, then so was he.
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