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 Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 6:44 pm
He spent a few days at home, sleeping, or at least trying to, but he knew he couldn’t stay in bed any longer. His mother would catch on that he wasn’t physically sick, and he couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The energy was building up in his body again, wanting to be purged out, but he didn’t have the heart to go running to get rid of the excess as he usually did. Going outside, to the park, alone, worried him. He didn’t need solitude anymore. He needed someone who he could go to, and that was why, when he was suppose to be walking to school, he had texted Tate that he’d be coming over. She didn’t ask why in the text, and he didn’t feel the need for an explanation other than he wanted to see his recovering friend. It was a terrible time for Tate to be recovering at home, as he hadn’t gotten out of bed to see her yet, but he had texted her with idle talk from the safety of his bed, under the covers where he felt the most safe.
It was morning when he arrived at her apartment, and she told him it was unlocked. Knocking first, he stepped in and set his backpack down, dressed in his Meadowview uniform only for the sake that his mother was going ot be suspicious if he wasn’t, and found her sitting on the couch. “I have your homework.” He said. His voice still sounded odd to him, and he made his voice quiet as he said this. It was still early morning, and he didn’t want to wake anyone if Parker was sleeping. “I can’t stand to be in my uniform. I’m going to change.” He set the papers down, and after changing into some casual clothes, came back to sit with her on the couch. Not at the end where he usually sat, but in the middle, and more towards Tate.
He felt exhausted and it showed. His looked paler, smaller than he had been before. This was a test for him to see if he’d be okay with hanging out. The idea of being out and about, pushing on with his normal routine after what happened was what he felt was best. He needed to move forward, but it was tiring. Everything was tiring. It was why he’d rather be here, recovering with Tate, than in class. He already had tried doing his homework at home and failed to concentrate on math equations and reading Catcher in the Rye.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 7:21 pm
The brunette was curled up on the couch, a bowl of dry Lucky Charms balanced between her chest and her knees. Previously she had been staring at her ceiling in her room, trying to get back to sleep. This, as always, had failed, and as she swung her feet out of the bed her cellphone had gone off in an old-fashioned brrrrring!
Text message!
"Thanks, Ladon," she said in the present, unfolding herself to take the papers. Something was wrong, she thought as he headed into the bathroom to change. Ladon didn't sulk like she did, not that she'd ever observed or seen hints of. But this seemed a lot deeper than a sulk, it seemed like...
She set her papers in her room, on her desk, and puttered back to the couch. Her blue comforter was piled up on the floor, and she picked it up and sat down under it again as he returned. The brunette regarded him for a long moment as he sat on the middle section of the couch, then tossed half the covers over him. "QVC," she said of the show on the television, "it's where good games go to die. What do you want to do today?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 7:40 pm
There was something about being under a blanket that made everything seem safer, which explained why he’d been in bed for a few days. For now, he knew he could get away with pretending he was sick by the calls his mother already made, and then making the voice as best he could while on his way to Tate’s house. In the past, he would have scolded himself for being tardy, let alone being someone who skipped school, but now it just didn’t seem that bad. School just didn’t seem important anymore aside from maintaining a front. It wasn’t like he wanted to go to college anyway. Then again, who could say he would live that long?
He curled the blankets under his chin, slightly scooting closer to Tate as he arranged himself into a comfortable position. “I’m okay with anything. I just…don’t’ want to watch any scary movies or play any gory games. I..I get a little freaked out by then." He pulled a small, forced smile as if he admitted to Tate that he did indeed get scared over those movies, as if she didn't notice from the dozens of times he had used a cushion for a shield or had gripped his hands around her arm when the axe-wielding manic jumped out. He couldn’t handle seeing anything that favored tearing people apart for entertainment. Not right now. He didn’t want to think how he would react if he saw something like that, even on TV, and since he was unsure how he would feel or act about that, he decided to avoid it all together. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, looking up at her. “If you don’t, I can come over again.” Any reason to excuse himself from classes.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 7:55 pm
She pursed her lips at his melancholy face, and then hesitantly brushed a lock of his black hair behind one ear. "Gotcha," she said, "Nothing scary." Did Tate even have any non-scary games? Haunting Ground was more suspense but she already knew that one frightened Ladon; whatever was wrong, she didn't want to aggravate it. Instead of laughing as she might have if it was Parker, she tucked him in a little tighter and got up to hunt down that game.
Tate only played horror, roleplaying, and war games. This was what everyone knew. She was unbeatable, indefatigable, at Soul Calibur. Silent Hill and Fatal Frame were her illegitimate lovechildren by their respective producers. There was exactly one game she played, though, completely free of gore or violence. She returned from her room, plugged in the Wii and a pair of Gamecube controllers. One controller, she set in her own lap when she joined Ladon back on the couch; the other, she held out to him.
"If you ever tell Parker I own this game, I will die," she said, "from embarrassment and shame." The Kirby Air Ride logo popped up on the screen, and she settled in to play. "I'm better. They say I can go back on Thursday. Apparently concussions are Serious Business." She set her head on his shoulder; this was only possible because of how splayed out she was, her toes poking out of the blanket cover. "What's up with you? It's a school day, you know."
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 8:21 pm
The action would have been comforting if it wasn’t for the fact that it was too soon to be touching his brow, and he jerked, before freezing himself, telling himself that this was Tate and everything was fine. It was exactly these sort of things that told him to avoid scary movies even more than he already did. He only withstood them for Tate’s sake, as she liked them and he wanted to like them too, but not today. While he wanted to be here for her, to submerse himself in being a friend, he felt a selfishness in moving closer to her, letting her rest on his shoulder, and just being here, lazy, skipping school, and doing nothing at all aside from enjoying the warmth collecting under the covers and through his side.
“My lips are sealed.” He said, proving his point by locking his lips with a invisible key before adjusting himself with the controller. Hours spent in Tate’s company had made him a lot better at games, where he had been nothing more than a button-smashing novice who hoped that at some point, frantic hammering of the network of buttons would somehow save him. This usually mean he was in the back, following Tate’s character and trying not to die…which he did…often. It was any wonder she didn’t steal the controller from him at times by how often she had to stop in the game when he got lost down the wrong hallway or when he was being chewed on my a zombie he couldn’t shake off. Many a herb was spent on Ladon’s character to the point that Tate’s already superior expertise was tested in the game by her complete lack of medical kits in her inventory. It was further tested by just having to protect herself and him with no healing help available.
Needless to day, the Game Over music was a familiar tune.
This new game seemed simple enough, and he leaned back, feeling content with doing something mindless. Games were an escape, a distraction that kept you from thinking about other things. He really was starting to love games.
“I just didn’t feel like going. Tired. It’s getting to the point I can’t even look at my homework long enough to figure out the first problem.” He stared at the screen, pushing ‘Start’ to activate multiplayer mode.
“Anyways, I haven’t seen you in a while. Got to come and see how you’re holding up.” He nudged her, softly, before looking back on the screen, the small smile fading back to something unreadable.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 9:41 pm
She sighed. It was worrisome, when Ladon was being so quiet. Normally he talked a little bit more, and didn't look quite so... lost. The brunette beat her head against the the couch as the loading screen queued up, then popped up the ride select screen. She went through the motions, her mind not really on the gray ball of squish representing her that game. It was more on the boy sitting next to her.
"Eh, did you bring it? I can help you with it, I passed my sophomore classes okay." Obviously, since she was graduating in a month and a half. Tate did not seem to note this statement of the obvious; instead she was trying to find the pieces of the magical Hydra, lips pursed.
It was sort of telling that she was also watching Ladon out of the corner of her eye. Had something happened to him? Did it have to do with the monsters? She hadn't seen Wolframite to tell him to look after Ladon. A bead of cold sweat trickled down her back; she couldn't imagine him having to face what she did, and the monster and the midget really weren't so bad in hindsight. Maybe she would have to do that soon, before something worse happened to her friend.
"No, I'm good. I made up with the ocean, we're on speaking terms again. Parker's pissed at me, of course, because I leave my window open some nights. He says there's a draft." She scowled, blackly. "He has a cat. It stays in his room, though, when he's not here." Judging by the lack of cat dander, Tate kept cleaning up after it. "They make me sneeze," she sulked.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 10:02 pm
The words filtered in past his best efforts to think and not think, to clear his head or just slip into a fog of forgetfulness and distraction till his mind decided to suppress certain memories all together. He was buying time, trying to wait and see if life would simple decide where he was going, how he would deal, of if he would somehow come to a conclusion on his own. For now, he listened to her for the sake of listening, talked for the sake of talking, and felt relief in the fact that the sounds of their voices, her voice especially, made the room seem fuller. Here he could say he had company, and here he could say things were happening, even if they weren’t important things. He could feel normal, like nothing else was happening in his world, and entertained the Ladon that was just a teenager who was skipping class for no other reason than to play games. It wasn’t the reason, but he liked to pretend. “No, I don’t need help. It’s not important, and you need to catch up on your work.” She was graduating and going places after all.
He hadn’t asked how the game was played, simply letting his blob of a character ride it’s star around the landscape and hit symbols like batteries and bombs. The fact she was leaving her window open said she was waiting for him, and he swallowed. Wolframite wasn’t going to come visit anytime soon, and he felt the weight of obligation that said he had to see her at some point so she didn’t forget him. He said he would be there for her. How could he explain that he was afraid to even wear his uniform and go out at night now?
“You should shut your window. It’s not safe out.” He turned his character to start gliding on it’s star. “I’m allergic to cats.” His answers were short, automatic, and often delayed. There was no point in the conversation that he didn’t look at the screen, not until he was finished and glanced at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here sooner to check up on you. I was sick.”
Then, just like that, he looked back at the screen. It was quiet for a few more minutes before he talked again. "We should go to the ocean again. ...it was nice." His voice was distant, as if he was thinking of visiting his hometown after being away for many years.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 10:32 pm
"I think it's important," said Tate, but she wasn't going to argue with him further when he was being so strange. Instead, she set her controller in her lap; she'd hit the top of the play area and was watching the little gray kirby sloooowwwwwwlly fall down. It was pretty amusing, to her way of thinking; it also gave her a bit of time to nudge him.
Was he mad at her? He didn't seem to be snapping, but he was being very... curt. It was a little bit annoying, but she was trying her best to be as understanding as she could. The comment about shutting her window she brushed off with a shrug and a "It gets hot in my room". Really, she was waiting for Wolframite--she hadn't seen him lately and was getting worried.
She had known about his cat allergy, though she couldn't say how; it had been the first thing she'd thought on seeing that little ball of gray fur. As for the rest of it, "That just means you have to spend more time with me." She smiled, nudged him again as her character's star touched back down.
She wasn't doing it right, was she. He still looked sad. "Sure, whenever you want," she agreed, nodding as she went to break the pink egg.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 11:14 pm
A small smile twitched into life when she kept nudging into him, but faded quickly when they played. The evening was spent in much of the same manner. Ladon answering her questions and keeping the conversation going on the barest of responses and questions, the scraps of conversations that wasn’t enough to make her angry but not enough to make her happy with how things were going. When they were done playing, they ate together and watched TV, and there were times where she would ask him questions that would not be registered before he looked at her, noticed she was waiting on him to say something, and then apologized that he hadn’t heard her at all. Even with what seemed like little attention he was giving her, he still asked to spend the night and not sure, she agreed. He went to call his mother, and told her he would be fine for getting to school tomorrow and would pick up some clothes from the house later on. This was a lie, as he already brought clothes with him and had no intention of leaving Tate’s apartment now as the sun was starting to set.
Together, they watched TV, and even ordered a movie. He didn’t remember what it was about. Something about a girl and a guy having an argument, but when the credits started to play, he found that it was over so soon. He also was surprised that he had started to chew on his fingernails, and shoved them under the covers, embarrassed.
When it was time to sleep, as they had run out of things to say and he was feeling the exhaustion that he was yearning for settle around him, they changed into their night clothes, and headed to her room. It was a debate who would sleep where until Tate forced him to take the bed while she took a sleeping bag and camped out on the floor. Usually he would have had more pep to fight her on this, not liking the fact she was suppose to be recovering and needed her rest. Tate wouldn’t have it and was already turning off the lights to say the discussion was over.
It took him a good hour to fall asleep, and he laid there, taking in how the bed was arranged, the posters, and the gleam from the open window. He imagined how Tate would feel moments before someone she could rely on would come to her window, and wondered how she felt when Wolframite came. He also worried about the open window, and who it could let it. Turning over, he curled into the blankets, smelling a perfume of shampoo and sleep on Tate’s pillow, and felt himself growing heavy.
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Posted: Wed May 05, 2010 11:04 pm
Well, thought Tate, that was a very unsatisfactory day. It was nice to not have been alone all day, after all, it was sort of grating on her nerves to always be the only one in the apartment (so she was looking forward to her return to school). But still, Ladon had seemed... troubled. Had something happened? Something with the terrorists--after all, he'd all but freaked when she'd flipped to the news and there was coverage of a dead body. Had something happened to his mother or his sister? He'd only mentioned them rarely, she'd barely even heard about them, but she knew he had them and with the way Ladon was, no doubt lack of family would really trouble him.
She tried to clear her mind and sleep, but it wasn't working out so well. The problem of Ladon kept coming back, leaving her to stare blankly at her ceiling, which needed posters: or at least something more interesting than white paint.
It was around midnight when the rhythm of Ladon's breathing changed. She only noticed because, like a creep, she was listening so intently; it grabbed her attention more when he started to cry. The brunette pulled herself out of the sleeping bag, padded over to her bed to touch his shoulder. "Ladon," she said, worried; she shook him, gently. "Ladon?"
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Posted: Wed May 05, 2010 11:40 pm
It started softly, slowly, and was muffled through clenched teeth and the covers, but soon there was that wet inhaul, quick and sharp, that said it was anything but the gentle breathing of a pleasant dream. Ladon didn’t have pleasant dreams much anymore. He had nightmares, and while sleeping, he wasn’t aware of where he was at or who he was otherwise trying to impress. While he slept, his body and mind were honest, and both expressed deep sadness, deep fear, as he gave shaking, sloppy-wet, sobs. The lump that he was under the comforter shook, and hot, massive tears moved at the creases of his tightly closed eyes, traveling over to the tip of his nose to soak Tate’s pillow.
When he was shaken, he startled, and his breathing shuddered as he opened his eyes. In the dim light, his face was glistening with wet, and his eyes were narrow pools like puddles in the Amazon. Tears continued to bubble about his eyes, dripping down in perfect drops to fall off his eyes lashes and run down to brush his cheek, traveling down to his chin to drip off. He had been confused and startled at first, but upon seeing Tate, he reached out and grabbed her. Thin arms wrapped around her, gripping the thin fabric of her spaghetti-strapped shirt. Dipping down, his face pressed into her neck, causing his cold cheeks and hot tears to roll onto her skin. It was anyone’s guess if he still felt he was dreaming, but he held on, desperately, like a child moments from being separated from a loved one forever. It came again. The deep, gasping sobs, grabbing hold to his insides and causing his frame to shake like a car trying to putter back to life, revving up, but not having the gas to go on. Running on empty.
“Don’t go..”
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Posted: Thu May 06, 2010 12:07 am
She had known he was crying, of course, it was rather obvious because of the peculiar hitching tone of his breathing. But actually seeing the tears was rather different, and she froze up for a moment. For a girl, she was pretty terrible with dealing with tears; Giselle had always commented, in a dry tone, that she sucked at everything emotional. But he was crying, and she had to make an effort, and--she slipped, bare feet on her worn-down carpet. She was tall enough, her bed low enough, that her knees only impacted the edge of the bed. It left her leaning over awkwardly, one arm bracing her, him clinging to her shoulders and sobbing.
The brunette stayed there for a long, quiet moment. Carefully, so as not to twist out of his grip, she shifted to sit on the bed. "Ladon," she said, quietly; she pulled him into her lap, gingerly wrapped her arms around him. "I'm not going to leave. What's wrong?" Why was he crying? It wasn't like cheerful, optimistic Ladon to cry.
Whatever it was, it had to be something big. She patted down his hair, trying to recall what she had read on the news lately. Was there anything that might have brought this on? It had to be related to him skipping school--he'd called his mom, she had to be fine--what was it?
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Posted: Thu May 06, 2010 12:19 am
Ladon barely weighed anything, being short and skinny, he nearly folded into her lap. He made no objections to being moved about aside from holding her more tightly, showing with gripping fingers that he did not want to be pushed aside. He didn’t want to talk civilly for a distance. It wasn’t proper to be like this, sitting on his best friend’s lap, being this close to her, and he knew he was probably making her worried and uncomfortable. Here he was trying to be here for her, helping her deal with the world that kept her locked inside, and he was making a mess by breaking down in her own bed. It was enough to make him lie about what he was crying about, to brush it aside and make an excuse, but as he continued to give little gasping breathes, his jaw hurting and eyes hot, he couldn’t bring up enough energy to be anything less than honest.
“I-Iie- I – I saw some people die…” He could excuse that. People were seeing people die all the time, and while it placed him in a realm of jeopardy to confine Tate in this way, to bring her a little nearer to his other lifestyle, he NEEDED someone to talk to. If was either this or he was just going to start bawling on the bus at some point and spill every doubt and fear to some unsuspecting commuter. Prying one hand free, he pressed his fist into his eyes, wiping his eyes clear, but having as much of a result as a windshield whisper in a thunderstorm. “…and I couldn’t do anything…I just…I just stood there…” His throat was closing up again, and he gulped down before sniffling, trying to wipe his face up as best he could so he didn’t get Tate all wet. “….I’m so…I’m so pathetic!”
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Posted: Thu May 06, 2010 1:43 am
She brushed at his hair again, rocked him a tiny bit closer; they shifted towards the wall and she leaned gently against it. "Don't cry," she said, a little hopelessly; it never worked, telling them not to cry, it usually just made them cry harder. "Ladon, we're only human, we can only do so much. The senshi and the Negaverse are beyond us in power--you would have to know they're coming and have some kind of weapon and Ladon, there was nothing you could have done."
This did not seem to help, and she hugged him a little tighter, rested her cheek against his so she didn't have to face how little help she really was. "Nobody expects you to be a hero, Ladon," she continued, having to feel like she was doing something--more than just patting his back and running her fingers through his hair. "I don't--I expect you to stay safe, to stay alive. Things are dangerous, and bad things will happen, and you can only do what you can to stop it."
It must have been a nightmare--well, of course, clearly, you don't start crying in the middle of a beautiful dream. "You're not pathetic. I'm not friends with pathetic people."
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Posted: Thu May 06, 2010 7:03 am
No. Things were suppose to be different. The fact he had been Wolframite meant he should have been better, stronger, than what he had been. He should have taken action, done something to defend himself and others, but he had been afraid, terrified beyond the ability to reason, and while he tried to say some of his teammates from being killed, he did not attack the source of their suffering. He had been defenseless, worthless, and several people had died in the process. It wasn’t his fault entirely for what had happened. He knew that. Wiseman had the sole intent of using his powers to kill them, but the lack of action, the paralyzing fear, and the call of duty that was given to him and that he did not meet was what brought on the most shame and guilt.
“…..I di-didn’t expect to be a hero…. I j-just to be useful.” If he could have saved one of them, or if he could have at least hurt Wiseman in some way to show that there had been some fight, some evenness to the battle instead of just a massive slaughter, then he could feel that their side wasn’t defenseless, that he wasn’t defenseless, to this all powerful being. He could convince himself more easily that this was an opponent he could fight, and that he had strength, instead of feeling weak. It could have been either Wolframite or Ladon on that field, their power had been the same. Why did he convince himself things would be different because of his uniform? He had a false sense of his power, and now he knew he barely had any at all.
“….how can I pr-protect anyone if I c-c-ca-can’t protect myself?” It wasn’t his power that saved him in the end, but chance, luck, and Wiseman’s own decision. To be completely devoid of having any say if you lived or died, that terrified him.
He held on more tightly than before, but he was feeling tired again. Worn. Still, holding Tate reminded him that if he was to protect anything he loved - his friends, his family, the world he lived in - he had to be come stronger. He had to rise to the challenge and fix the mess he was right now.
"I'm sorry." Sorry for being a pathetic friend, for not being able to protect her as both Ladon or Wolframite, and for causing such a commotion when she needed her sleep. He was pretty much being a mess around her, and he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable or forced to be around him when he was like this. Trying to pull himself back together, he breathed deep, hard breathes and went to wipe his face clear, sniffling as he looked at her.
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