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Post by DONALD MACLEAN on Jul 11, 2010 9:22:51 GMT -5
A slow, steady, almost tranquil sound of a dripping faucet drifted into the bedroom where Donald had been trying in vain to fall asleep. Every time a plop of water would resound within the West Wing, he would shift his position. Since 11o`clock this night he had found himself stretched out on his stomach, straight like a plank of wood on his back, curled into a tight ball, and now in a pose that could only be defined as a personalized version of the fetal position. A frustrated grumble escaped Donald’s chapped lips. Why did he always have to muck things up? It was his fault that he was in this predicament in the first place. If he hadn’t fallen asleep earlier in the afternoon, he wouldn’t be having this bothersome problem. Despite the blame falling directly onto his shoulders, all of this additional noise was undoubtedly making matters worse. Hearing the boy in the bed next to him begin snoring, Donald almost lost it. Why did everything have to make so much noise? No matter where you went in this orphanage, there was sure to be something or someone mindlessly spewing out different sounds. Exasperation shooting up in him, he turned toward the boy that was releasing the grating noises and punched him lightly –or at least lightly in Donald’s opinion- on the shoulder. The boy woke up with a start, staring fearfully at him. In other circumstances, Donald may have felt sympathy for him. Instead, he glared at the boy before hissing “Will ye ever shut up, Peterson? I can’t fall asleep with yer guttural mating calls.” Joseph Peterson blinked at him stupidly for awhile, obviously missing the fact that by “guttural mating calls” he had actually meant his snoring. Donald sighed irascibly at the boy before turning his back to him. Let Peterson not understand. At least he wasn’t snoring anymore. Donald thought he may have heard Joseph give a mumbled apology a few moments too late, but he had stopped paying attention. Now all of his focus was on that dripping sink.
It was peculiar how the sound of that sink could sound so calming yet so maddening at the same time. There was something almost eerie about it too; the way that it could continue on with life absent from the room. Unless there was someone there. “Naw, Donald. You’re being a moron again. No one would purposely make the sink drip in such a fixed pattern. Stop being so paranoid.” He thought, mentally chiding himself. Most of the time, Donald wouldn’t have such irrational suspicions about ghosts or invisible people lurking in the bathrooms. Hell, he’d be extremely cynical if someone told him their worries of haunted sinks. However, him being restless in the dead of night and without sleep had started to play with his head, and suddenly, the idea of a phantom in the bathroom didn’t seem so extreme. Rolling over for the umpteenth time, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep by counting the “plinks” of the faucet. Plink. One. Plink. Two. Plink. Three. Plinkplinkplink. Donald inhaled sharply at the sudden change of pattern. What was going on? He sat up cautiously, still listening intently to the sink. The drops had turned sporadic out of the blue, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Why was this happening now of all times? He should be sleeping peacefully like good ol` Peterson was right now, not troubling himself over something as insignificant as a sink. Yet now that he started, he couldn’t stop. He wanted, no, needed to find the cause of the change within the leaky faucet. Donald removed the thin cover that covered his knees and gazed into the darkness of the bedroom, trying to adjust his eyes to better see the crowded room. If he made one misstep as he left he’d wake up the entire room. That would definitely earn him a few groaned out complaints in the process. Once he was able to see outlines of people, beds, and a few misplaced pieces of furniture, he carefully stepped out of his bed.
Tiptoeing, Donald side-stepped his obstacles, grinning triumphantly as he reached the large wooden door that marked the exit. Glancing back quickly to make sure that he hadn’t disturbed anyone, he placed his hand over the doorknob and turned. He was out. Once in the hallway, Donald tilted his head questioningly as he tried to make out where the sink was located. He knew it was somewhere in the West Wing, but other than that, he was at a loss. There were more than one bathroom in the Wing(quite a lot in fact) to accommodate the many staff members and children that lived in St. Anne’s. Many of the bathrooms simply had sinks alone to create rooms for children to wash up without wasting money on actual baths or showers. It would take him ages to track down the right sink. For once, Donald wished that the orphanage was a bit smaller. It was almost as if the echo and reverb of the drops of water masked where it was truly coming with. Stumbling a bit, Donald opened up a door that he knew led to a so-called washroom. He glimpsed at the sinks, but all of them were off as they should be. He exited the room, a bit more frustrated than when he had entered it. Donald then swiftly and systematically checked every wash room he passed in the hallway. Finally, on the fourth try, he was successful. The rusted copper sink sat in the corner, dripping still as if to say, “Heh heh, Donald. Do you see that I’m still making noise? Take it.” Donald walked over to the offending sink, smiling proudly at his find. He turned the knob to off and turned to leave. Only, the sink wasn’t off at all. Just before he had reached the door, a ghostly, taunting “drip” reached his ears. Donald returned to the sink, more than a little nervous. He fiddled with the knob, watching as the water went from barely trickling down to whooshing loudly. “Shit!” he cried as he accidentally pulled the entire knob off the sink. The water continued to rush down, not at all concerned with his problem. “Oh, good going ya gump! You’ve probably woken up half the orphanage by now!” his conscience screamed at him. Donald ignored this and tried to frantically reconnect the sink parts as the water began to overflow. He was so busy with his work that he never noticed the sound of footsteps approaching.
(OOC: Sorry if this seems a bit rushed.)
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Post by theodore parker on Jul 11, 2010 12:34:55 GMT -5
Theo sighed as he sat on the carpet floor and looked over the remains of his Uncle’s favorite tea set. The crash of the set shattering seemed to echo throughout the house, and he could already hear the sound of his Uncle’s office chair screech as he abruptly stood up. Biting his lower lip in worry, the ten year old boy tried to put the pieces back together. Maybe he could fix it. He could tell his uncle he’d be able to repair the fragments and he wouldn’t have to get mad. It had been an accident after all. He had tripped over his own two feet as he was taking the set to the kitchen in order to fill it with the tea his Uncle had ordered. Theo had come out unscathed… but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be unharmed. Letting a hand go through his hair, his heart began to race, not wanting to see his Uncle angry. The older man was so scary when he was angry. His dark eyes looked like a rabid dog’s as if he felt no connection to Theo or acknowledged he was another human being like him. Part of the boy wondered if he should just run away… but he had already tried that. The officer’s in the area knew his Uncle and when they found him sleeping on the streets they had just dragged him back by his hair. The bruises from that beating took a whole month to heal…
The noise of his relative’s footsteps made him begin to sweat and he felt his body begin to quiver in fear. His eyes helplessly looked over the fragments as the steps got closer and closer. It almost sounded like his Uncle was taking his time, torturing Theo with the suspense of his arrival as further punishment. Swallowing hard he could see his Uncle’s shadow over him and as he looked up, his eyes full of tears now, all he could focus on were those glaring dark eyes full of hatred. “I’m so sor-“ he began before a hard hand slapped across his face. Theo grew silent again as he sat there with his head turned the opposite direction and his cheek red from the mark. The pain tingled down the rest of his body and he let the tears run down his cheeks. “What? Are you going to cry now, Theodore?” his Uncle said mocking him, smirking as he crouched down next to him. “That won’t fix my favorite tea set.” Pulling Theo by the hair so he was forced to look up at him, he continued to punch at his self-esteem. “It’s too bad you’re such a clumsy idiot. I can’t even sell you as a servant. At least with that money I can buy a cheap set to replace this one.” The young boy whimpered softly, wanting to tell his Uncle that he was hurting him, but he knew deep down that it would only encourage him to do more. Trying to control his emotions, he opened his mouth to apologize again only to be thrown on the ground and kicked in the gut. More tears fell from his eyes as he curled up in a fetal position, his body quivering with silent sobs. “Now you’re going to be a good boy and clean up this mess,” his Uncle began as he stood up and began to kick his back and shoulders. “And then afterwards you can see me for further punishment,” Before Theo could see it coming the and shield himself the foot suddenly went directly towards his face. He could only release another cry as the world went dark…
Sitting upright in St. Anne’s Orphanage, Theo realized he must have screamed as the people around him were tossing and turning more than usual. “Shut up, Theo… it’s too early…” one actually mumbled as the boy continued to sit there, his heart racing. His whole body was still shaking from the nightmare and he had to tell himself that it wasn’t real. It was simply a memory… Swallowing hard, the normally happy optimistic boy rested his head on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. It had felt so real. His Uncle’s voice, his eyes, and the pain. It had been like he lived that memory all over again. Feeling the cold sweat all over his body, Theo got up out of his bed, deciding he needed some cold water to wash his face. Walking out of the bedroom, the fourteen year old boy wandered towards one of the bathrooms now wide awake. Before he could even enter though he heard the sound of rushing water and someone swearing. Rubbing one of his eyes, he entered the lit room, taking a moment for his eyes adjust to the brightness. A half smile formed on his face when he realized what the problem was. The rusty sink had broken again and was overflowing. Walking over to the sink, a portion of his brain still thinking about the nightmare, Theo took the knob from the boy and somehow easily put it back on. Then with the back of his foot he hit the valve that brought in the water as well as turned the knob in sequence. Almost like magic the water stopped gushing out of the sink and returned to its annoyingly dripping state. “I broke it before,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,”
Before the other boy could reply he went to another sink to wash his face. Turning on the cold water, he stood in front of the sink with an expression that showed he was very much distracted. Why was he having these nightmares again? He had been so sure he had gotten over them a year ago. Sighing he splashed some of the cold water on his face. The liquid was refreshing and soon his normal smile twisted back on his lips. Turning off the water, he finally glanced at the other boy as he dried his face with the back of his sleeve. He knew that face. “Donald!” he said in a happy fashion that was very normal for him. As if forgetting his nightmare, he walked over to the other boy. “So you ended up breaking the sink? Wow. Who’s the klutz now, huh?” he teased with a small laugh as he poked the other boy’s side. He had way too much energy for someone who just woke up. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked, tilting his head with curiosity only a child could have. “You look like a mess…” The other boy looked like he had just endured some type of torture with his hair all untidy from tossing and turning. Then again, Theo probably didn’t look much better or possibly he looked even worse.
[[ It’s fine. It was funny. =P ]]
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Post by DONALD MACLEAN on Jul 11, 2010 16:30:29 GMT -5
Donald’s mind whirred crazily for a second, trying to keep up with what had just happened. One moment he had been mumbling curses under his breath and trying to fix the sink; the next some boy had swooped into the room, grabbed the knob, and had fastened the loose piece back in a way that seemed effortless. Donald let out a breath of relief and looked on as the water swirled down into the open drain. He realized that some of the water had splashed out onto the tiled floor, but Donald figured that with a quick mop up, the accident wouldn’t be noticeable by tomorrow morning. Satisfied with this, he then turned his attention onto the boy who had come in the nick of time, opening his mouth to grudgingly give him a rushed thank you. God, how he hated feeling obliged to tell people that. Ever since he had begun to talk more freely again, Donald had developed a problem with expressing gratitude; it always seemed so needlessly awkward. To him, saying thank you wasn’t so much about showing appreciation. It was more about admitting that you were dependent on another person’s actions even if it was only for a second or so. In his not so humble opinion, leaning on a person, even for just a second, was much too long. He would much rather feel confident in his ability to work sufficiently without the help of others. Independence was key if he wanted to keep his usual guarded attitude when in public. It wasn’t that he necessarily felt superior to other people. He rarely used vertical distancing by putting himself above them –them meaning anyone who wasn’t him-. Rather, Donald relied on utilizing a lateral type of distancing where he stayed apart but remained equal to those around him. But enough of his silly philosophy for now. Currently, Donald had finally realized that this boy wasn’t just another nameless face in the collection that he held in his mind. It was actually one that he knew quite well. Or at least well compared to his almost nonexistent knowledge of most children at the orphanage.
Theodore Parker was a rather agitating lad if Donald remembered correctly. The boy was like a constant ray of sunshine, who clashed harshly with his own rather rainy personality. Wherever Theo went, he brought this obnoxiously cheerful disposition along. Donald couldn’t figure out why or how he could remain so optimistic through all that the orphans here had been through. Though he knew that Theodore had arrived after much of the abuse from the adults, that was still no excuse for being in high spirits. Then again, in Donald’s warped mind, there was absolutely no excuse at all for true contentment. With all of his complaints about Theodore, it was amusing to him that he still quite liked the boy’s company. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe being able to see at least one person who wasn’t miserable was refreshing for him, even if he found this lack of misery both confusing and annoying. In fact, the annoyance he felt probably just stemmed from his inability to comprehend Theo’s ways. He had always found that not being able to understand something was one of the most gnawing feelings he could experience, as shown by his wild goose chase to find the faucet that he didn’t understand. At this time, however, it wasn’t Theo’s perpetual jollity that made Donald happy to see him. It was that he knew that Theodore would probably not expect a huge thank you from him. So, he closed his mouth and opted for a short nod in his friend’s direction. Friend? Was that what Theo was to him? Donald was unsure, but no matter what Theodore was, he had compelled him to stay longer even if it would have been easier to escape the washroom while Theo was washing up. Donald was a bit put off by the look plastered on Theodore’s face. It almost resembled weariness. He had seen the expression on many a child’s face before, but it seemed misplaced on when it was on Theo. Donald just about asked him what was wrong, but before he could make that uncharacteristic action, his “friend” had once again put on his signature smile. He continued to study Theo silently as his “friend” (why was it so difficult to use that phrase?) dried his face, almost absentmindedly. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here. He should get going now. Yup, he’d just turn around and---
“Donald!” he heard his friend exclaim before he could make his move. He turned hesitantly as Theodore approached. His eyes narrowing as Theo attempted to joke around about the breakage of the sink. Donald, on the other hand, honestly could not find anything remotely comical about what he had done. Slapping away Theo’s hand as the boy made an annoying move to poke him, Donald rolled his still narrowed eyes. What a child. “Obviously I broke the sink, Theo. Do you think I was just wasting water for the Hell of it? And I’m pretty sure that me screwing up once doesn’t allow me to replace you as King Klutz of the universe.” He muttered in his classically literal and sarcastic take of what questions were thrown his way. He hadn’t really meant to come off as rude as he had. It must have had something to do with his already sleep-deprived state. Now with Theodore pestering him, he had just released hot air. For some reason now, he felt like he should make the effort to be slightly friendlier. Theo had helped him with the sink after all. Donald’s features softened at Theodore’s next question, partially due to his decision to be kinder and partially because the question was more serious than the others. “Couldn’t sleep.” He murmured quietly. “What about you? Isn’t it passed wee Theodore’s bedtime?” Donald asked, teasing without malicious intent. At Theodore’s next comment, a frown slipped back on his face. He examined himself in the slightly smudged mirror that hung above one of the sinks. His frown was replaced with a smirk as he saw how awful he really did look. His dark hair had twisted up into a rat’s nest over the night and defined, sickly bags outlined the bottom of his eyes. “Aye, that I do.” Donald admitted as he ran a hand through his tangled locks. He almost laughed out loud as it got tangled half way through his hair. That was going to take a lifetime to fix. He should just get a haircut. Donald averted his gaze to Theo through the mirror, impulsively taking his hand from his own hair and reaching out to ruffle the other boy’s tresses. “There, we’re about even now.” He commented lightly, grinning lopsidedly at his friend (he wasn’t used to grinning properly) before once again pulling his hand out of hair. Then, realizing that his action was much too… affectionate for his tastes, he cleared his throat. “Well, come on; let’s find a mop to clean up this place.” He demanded, gruffly. Och, this lack of sleep must really be getting to him. Donald led the way to the door hastily. Too hastily in fact. In his scramble to hide his faintly colored face from Theo, he had forgotten the puddle of water on the floor (despite the fact that it was the reason they were to get a mop in the first place).
The world spun as Donald found himself flat on his back, a sharp pain spreading from his head to the rest of his body. Again?! He had done something clumsily again!? He slipped on mere water? “Ow, damn it.” he cussed for the second time in about 10 minutes. He shut his eyes at the ache, trying to regain his composure. At last, he was able to open his eyes and look up at Theodore, feeling very much humiliated. Of course, he masked this as always by casually saying, “God, I really am turning into you, aren’t I?” After a few seconds the hurt receded and Donald made an effort to get up on his own. He sat up, only to feel more pain shoot up through his spine, so forcefully that it caused him to moan quite pathetically. Ugh, why was this happening in front of a wisp of a boy like Theo of all people? Shamed, Donald avoided eye contact with the other boy before miserably asking, “Help me up, will ye?” He almost disliked asking for favors as much as he disliked thanking people for them. At least he didn't think the other boy would ask for anything major in return. Hmm, on second thought, maybe it was a good thing that this was all in front of Theodore. At least then he knew that he wouldn’t be taken advantage of because of the situation. Would he? Donald stared piercingly at Theo for a moment, searching for any sign that would show that his “friend” (back to uncertainty about that label) was rather enjoying this spectacle before him. “Don’t just stand there.” He ordered, reaching his hand up commandingly. The quicker this little farce was finished the better. All they needed to do was get that damn mop and it would be over. Then Donald would be free to avoid Theo for the rest of his life, or at least until his life at the orphanage came to a close. Sure, he could shun Theo for 4 more years. That wouldn't be too difficult.
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Post by theodore parker on Jul 12, 2010 22:54:19 GMT -5
A small frown formed on his face as his hand was slapped away and immediately afterwards a teasing comment left Donald’s lips. A normal person would have probably thought Donald was rude in his reaction. Theo had just leant him a hand, teased him in a friendly way, and in turn had been mocked even worse. It wouldn’t have been the content of what Donald said that would have hurt a normal person per se, but his rough tone. The other boy had a way of sounding like he wanted to just push everyone away with his gloomy attitude. No matter when Theo saw him, he always had a sarcastic comment ready to be used by that quick tongue of his. Oddly, the harsh comments grew even worse when they were in a crowd together. For awhile Theo had wondered if Donald was trying to prove something to the rest of world when he acted like that. Was he one of those children that was afraid to be hurt by friend? Or was he just more of a grouch because he thought people would belittle him for being nice to the school’s personal sunbeam? The young boy only had considered these options for a split second before realizing he didn’t care to answer the question of ‘Why?’. He just wanted to be Donald’s friend, whether the other boy wanted to be in return or not. It wouldn’t be in his nature to take any of the comments personally as he knew deep down Donald always meant well. He acted like he didn’t care, but even Theo could see the soft spot he had underneath his shell. Knowing the other orphan would be mad if he admitted he was aware of such a vulnerability, he kept his discovery to himself. It was like having a little secret.
This is why when others would be easily frustrated with Donald or stay out of his path, Theo was one of the few still standing by his side. Even now when his friendliness was dismissed he kept on smiling and laughed softy at his comment. “I hope it doesn’t. I’d be mad if you stole my title,” he replied warmly. Clumsiness seemed to be Theo’s specialty and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. He tripped over about everything and had a tendency of making the biggest messes. With that thought in mind, the smile wavered again. A flash of his nightmare and the broken tea set surfaced again as well as his Uncle’s angry voice. His thoughts were only broken when the other boy asked a question, which in the end only led back to the memories bothering him. “I just had a silly nightmare,” he said, letting a half smile return to his face again. For a moment he had considered lying, but he was pretty sure the other boy would see through it easily. Luckily it appeared the other boy was soon distracted by how much of a mess his hair was, but without any time to spare so was Theo. His attention was entirely focused on Donald when he felt his hand ruffle his hair, unused to such affection from the other boy. He hadn’t been allowed to poke him, but he got to mess up Theo’s hair? This normally would cause Theo to tease him again. Instead, he smiled softly in return, taking a moment to enjoy Donald’s smile before it would disappear for who knows how long.
The gruff comment that clashed greatly with the very sweet action made him simply smile in amusement. “Alright Donald,” he agreed softly, not wanting to ruin the chances of such a behavior from ever happening again. He also didn’t want to stop Donald from turning around as a soft tint of pink had formed on his own cheeks. Part of him was tempted to ask the other boy why he couldn’t always act like that… but he could already hear a sarcastic response to the question. Silently sighing to himself, he took a few steps forward while he followed the other boy before having a front row seat to his tumble. At first his eyes widened with worry as Donald swore and fell back. When he realized the other boy hadn’t broken anything valuable, he stifled another laugh. Covering his mouth with his hand he tried his best to get out a, “Are you alright?” between little chuckles. Theo didn’t want to be mean and he could definitely empathize with this situation. Nonetheless, he had a hard time being polite and pretending like this situation wasn’t so comical. Hearing another order he smiled and took his hand, “I’m sorry. I just don’t normally see you like this.” Carefully he attempted to pull him up when his hand was taken. In a way, this weakness showed Theo that Donald wasn’t as perfect as he acted. It reminded him that the other boy was a human being and he had his ups and downs like everyone else.
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Post by DONALD MACLEAN on Jul 13, 2010 15:10:16 GMT -5
Donald’s eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets when he began to comprehend the idea that Theodore was laughing at him. He could hear the bastard (fuck friends. Donald didn’t want to be his friend) make an effort to smother his chuckles, but quite frankly, he was doing a dreadful job of it. God, if he wasn’t as injured as he was, he’d go and wipe that annoying smile right off of Sunny’s – a nickname that unfortunately sounds more playful than Donald had wanted- revolting face. He took in a breath, this time less to ease the pain, and more to stop from growing heated with rage. In spite of Donald’s attempt to calm himself, the other boy still found a way to rekindle the fury he was trying to hide. It was something in the way that Theo asked him “are you alright?” that made him finally snap. First of all, he hated when people asked that question when the answer was clear. He had just fallen on his back, and he couldn’t get up! Did that seem ALRIGHT?! Secondly, hearing someone laugh when asking that question wasn’t exactly the best way to be comforted. “Comforted? What the heck? Where in the world did that come from? You don’t need comfort from this freak. What you need is to make him suffer like you are.” His mind barked at him. Donald wished it was that simple, but part of him, a deeper and less explored part, knew that getting at least some show of concern that didn’t include chuckling would have been nice. No matter what his inner self said, Donald went with his angry side as he usually did. Face full of hatred, he growled out at Theo, “How fitting! A stupid question for a stupid boy. No wonder everyone hates you, Parker.” Though this was definitely not one of Donald’s more witty comments, it was a lower hit, mostly due to his tone not being sarcastic but more detesting. This wasn’t teasing anymore, this was insulting.
Regardless of how mad he was at Theodore, Donald still clutched at the bastard’s hand when he found it finally trying to help pull him up. Then, eyes flashing, he tugged hard, hoping that this would force Theodore down to the ground. Using the momentum he got from this action, he propelled his self upward, not caring if Theo had fallen or not. Let him hurt badly if that was the case. Once on his feet, he appeared much more collected again, though the unpleasant feelings were still boiling under the smooth surface of his body language. He turned to Theodore and said, flatly despite his harsh words, “Good. Good, Theodore. I hope you enjoy your time seeing me like this, because after this is over, you’ll never see me again, this way or otherwise.” He wasn’t glaring now, no longer growling or showing much emotion. Donald’s voice and face remained blank, a skill he had learned after much practice dealing with other annoying boys or adults. He had found that doing things so vacantly unnerved his foes as if he was warning them, showing them the calm before the storm. With Theo though, he had done things in reverse order. The storm before the calm. Not exactly the best way to show that he didn’t care at all, but Donald figured that if he perfected his act now, maybe he could convince the other boy that he wasn’t emotional over him. At least he could try. “And if I do happen to see you, I’ll beat the living shite out of you. That's all your good for anyway. Now, let’s go get that mop so I don’t have to stay with you any longer than I have to.” he continued, keeping his voice level. Donald also did his best to not look at Theodore when he spoke. If he did, he was afraid that he’d feel bad, or God forbid, try to apologize to the boy. Apologizing, after thanking people and asking for favors, was one of his least favorite things to do. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had said sorry. Already, the thought of taking everything back was starting to turn into a very tempting idea. And if he did that, well, goodbye normal Donald.
He headed to the exit once again, carefully evading the pesky puddle on the floor. He didn’t stop to check to see if Theo had followed or not. In the hallway, he tried to focus on where they would find a mop nearby. Unluckily for him, his mind was not cooperating. His thoughts kept returning to what he had done, and this newfound guilt was starting to irk him. He wasn’t used to feeling remorse for his actions, and he couldn’t help wondering why now he was. It could have possibly been because now that he thought about it, Theo probably hadn’t meant to be cruel with his laughter. Or maybe, just maybe, Donald had wanted things to turn back to normalcy. Before he had slipped up and touched Theo’s hair for no reason. Before he had shown so much weakness. As defense mechanism, his head could have gone into overload, and to prove that he was still his self, he had to have acted in such a way. But it didn’t work! Nothing was normal! Normally, he wouldn’t be bothering his self over reviewing what he had done to other people. The fact that he had felt hate before was disheartening enough. Because he knew that hate had to stem from somewhere, and most of the time it rooted from love or at least care. That was clearly unacceptable. Theodore was a waste of his time. He would not allow himself to ponder over him and wonder if he cared for him. Care, bah. Donald cared for himself. That was it. But did it have to feel so bad? “Apologize, Donald. Come on, you know you want to.” his conscience (the better part of it) told him. That was it! Enough! Just make all these feelings go away! Donald blindly returned to wherever Theodore was and began to incoherently babble random starts of sentences. “Look I’m--- I don’t know, just--- You know--- I’M SORRY, OKAY?!” he finished, lamely. What was happening to him?
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Post by theodore parker on Jul 15, 2010 13:04:51 GMT -5
The bitterness in the other boy’s tone took him off guard and the smile on his face quickly faded. Theo knew the other boy was only saying his insult out of spite. He was confident that the friends he did have didn’t secretly despise him. Unfortunately the words still stung. Instead of it being the gasoline to his own internal fire and attempting to lash back at Donald, he grew quiet. His gaze fell to the floor passively and he nibbled on his bottom lip. At the moment he was trying to find a silver lining to this situation. Before he could, he was tugged towards the floor and released a soft grunt as he collided with bathroom tiles. Looking back up at the other boy in surprise, he turned away again while wincing at another verbal punch. Swallowing hard, the fourteen year old attempted to regain his composure before it completely crumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time Donald was this pissed off at him. The other boy had his downs, but normally Theo could more easily brush them off. There was a huge difference between a statement teasing him about his klutziness and saying the world completely hated him. He should be used to this verbal torment though. After facing it as a child and now from the other children, it shouldn’t be anything new. The only reason Theo could conclude why he felt so much pain was because Donald wasn’t just some random kid he ran into. He liked to think they were friends—well, according to Donald not anymore…
The last comment ended up being the final kick in his gut. ‘I’ll beat the living shit out of you. That’s all your good for anyway,’ he repeated inside his head. The idea made his throat tighten and his stomach squirm. He was having a hard time telling himself Donald didn’t mean that. His mind kept shouting that he was just angry and this is what happened when you got in his path when he was. Years of being told that same statement haunted him and he sat on the ground pathetically. Instead of denying it he just sat there and didn’t twitch as the other boy left to get the mop. Unlike a lot of the other children that had grown cold and shielded over the years, Theo was still incredibly emotional. Possibly more emotional than a typical boy was expected to be. The happiness he always showed was genuine, after all. Why wouldn’t it be? He had finally gotten out of a bad situation at home and the adults no longer hurt the children at the Orphanage. Wasn’t that something to be glad about instead of wallowing in those awful memories? Sometimes that happiness took the forms affection, excitement, and extreme caring for others. People teased him for being this bubbly kid that couldn’t shut up or keep his nose out of other people’s business. Did he care? Never. The few smiles he got out of others or even a rare laugh in return was all he needed for motivation. Somehow the happiness that danced like the flame on a candle was suddenly extinguished. All it had taken was for one person, who he had trusted, to tear him apart.
Watching the world go blurry as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, he held his breath as Donald re-entered the room again. Great… he wasn’t done with him. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve to hide the small weakness, he found himself puzzled when he noticed the other boy didn’t have a mop. More confusion washed over his expression when words began to spill out of Donald’s mouth, at first not understanding what he was trying to say. Then it hit him like a nice warm breeze. He was apologizing. A half smile formed back on his face and he slowly stood up. “So... you didn’t mean any of that?” he whispered softly, continuing to bite his lip a little. Theo was left to wonder if he was apologizing because he meant it or was only doing it so Donald didn’t have to deal with some boy crying on the floor. With the fourteen year old’s optimism gradually returning, he prayed it was the earlier idea. “I-I’m sorry too… I shouldn’t have laughed at you,” he replied sadly, “I should have known better,”
[[ sorry that it's a little shorter. xx ]] [/blockquote] |
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Post by DONALD MACLEAN on Jul 18, 2010 10:46:35 GMT -5
If there was an award given to the bastard of the year, Donald was pretty sure that he would be one of the nominees. Though Theo had tried to hide them, Donald’s keen eye had picked up the hint of tears left over in the other boy’s blue orbs. He had almost made the kid cry! Making Theodore cry had to be comparable to kicking a whimpering puppy. And over such a stupid thing too! He had completely flown of the handle when Theo laughed at him, something that he should have had enough self-control to stop. Most of the time, Donald was able to control his reactions. When he did get into physical battles, it was only because he didn’t care enough to stop himself. This time was different. Horribly so. He cared too much to stop himself. It was twisted, wrong, an incident that just shouldn’t happen. Enough of his own problems, though. He shouldn’t let this self-centered worry for his own mental health interfere with the true issue. That boy he had yanked to the ground in what must have seen like an unexplainable explosive rage. Donald began to crouch down to see Theo eye-to-eye (a thing that, though he would never admit it, was a social grace that he found increasingly difficult to meet), but he stopped himself when he saw Theo begin to get up with a half-smile already on his face. He was starting to smile again already?! What was it with this boy? Had he unlocked an unknown life secret that the rest of the kids had missed out on? How did have so much optimism after all of this? If Donald had been the one pulled to the ground, heads would be rolling. Forget about mercy. He skimmed over the idea of asking Theo why he was so happy all the time, but he decided against it. The question sounded foolish, and even if he would ask it eventually, now was obviously not the time.
Outwardly, Donald had seemed to revert to his usual self just as quickly as Theodore had turned to his. He was no longer fumbling wildly for words, and his outright expression worry of before had paled to a dull concern. Even while his mind winced as he heard the other boy practically whimper out a tragically vulnerable question, his face kept its smooth surface. Inner Donald was screaming a, “No, of course I didn’t mean it!” while outer Donald coolly replied, “Not all of it, I suppose. I still mean the part about the stupid question.” Wait, what? Why had he said that? Since when had his mouth taken complete disregard for what he really wanted to say? All of a sudden, he felt exhausted. It was like he was a baby chicken fighting to get out of a hard, oppressive shell. No matter how much the shell cracked, it always found a new layer to add on. Its flat surface perfectly disguised all of the turmoil. Theodore was someone who just added to the problem. He found that he needed to desperately break out of his shell to relate to the other boy, but his defense mechanisms had called to abort the mission. When he had almost escaped, earlier when he had reached out and touched Theo’s hair, his senses went haywire. They began throwing anything they could to keep that part of Donald safe and sound. He understood it now. For what had that part of him brought? Just a temporary closeness to people that would eventually have to leave him, defenseless and alone. If that happened, it would be just like before. Before, that gloomy time where he couldn’t speak, and he just allowed the adults to hurt him. Never again… Broken out of yet ANOTHER unsettling revelation about his self, Donald then heard Theo apologizing for laughing. He twisted the end of his too-small shirt absently, finally saying, “No, that really wasn’t why I was so angry. It was a catalyst for it, but… you really didn’t do anything to be sorry for. Surely, I’d be laughing if it was you who fell.” At last he was able to get something out that he actually meant, though the ending was unneeded.
Donald walked slightly closer to Theodore, feeling that he should say something more. That he should do something that proved the sincerity of his earlier sputtered out apology. He didn’t want to make physical contact again. He had done enough damage to his image by all these little mood changes, but he couldn’t find words that would properly convey his emotions. Donald decided to just go with it. “Listen, Theo. You didn’t deserve this. I’m going to make it up to you somehow.” He began, not knowing where to go from there. “Okay, genius. How are you going to “make this up” for him, huh?” his brain asked himself. Answering both to Theo and his mind he said, “Maybe if you, uh, can’t sleep again, you can, erm, come to me and---“ And WHAT? Did he really expect Theo to crawl into his bed with him like a little toddler? What the hell was he saying? “And, we can talk about it or walk around or something.” He finished, differently than what he was going to say. Talk about it? What’s there to say? “Oh, Donald. I can’t sleep.” “Hmm, okay…” He saw the stupid conversation in his mind, furrowing his eyebrows in irritation. Out of every unintelligent thing he had done this night, this silly preposition may have taken the cake. “I just mean that if you need someone, I’m here for you. Sometimes at least.” He summarized, his voice still tense from the annoyance he held for himself. “Now, we better get that mop. For real this time.” He spit out. With that, he led the way to the door. Why was it then whenever he was trying to be honestly kind, he ended up rambling like an idiot? Turning his head back, he checked to see if Theo was following him.
(OOC: Sorry for the wait and the general suckiness. My muse is sick.) |
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