((Couldn't think of a proper title... D= And I wasn't sure where to start, so I went from the beginning of a day))

There was something so satisfying about still taking his bicycle to school. Although he lived miles away and the trip required him to wake up at least half an hour earlier, it was always well worth it to be able to lift his head and take in a deep breath of fresh morning air that hadn’t yet been tainted by anyone else. It was as though the earth stood still just to make this time perfect specifically for him, one of the few up and going at such an ungodly time. Even the sun still begged for five more minutes of sweet slumber, but already Nicu was eager to begin the day.

He peddled slowly, clearly in no hurry. Despite the sluggish pace he’d kept up since beginning his ride, Nicu found himself nearing the school building much earlier than he’d anticipated. Still a block away, he could see few cars in the lot, likely janitors and the one or two dedicated teachers. The sight was something that brought a small smile onto his face. More time alone was something he’d long been craving, but was always just beyond his reach. Now it presented itself in a bike ride and an empty schoolyard. For a few minutes, until more early birds arrived, Nicu could find himself a nice corner to prop himself up against and lose himself in thought. Perhaps, he could even catch up on the sleep he’d missed in getting up early after a late night.

Once again, Nicu had spent the night with Jasmine (who he’d taken to fondly referring to as “Jazzy”). Like small children, they’d challenged one another to staying awake all night, the first to sleep being the loser of the game. Sometime early into watching corny horror movies, Nicu had fallen sound asleep until the sound of returning parents acted as an alarm that sent him jumping out of the window. This frantic morning was still obvious on him. All he’d changed from the previous day was his shirt, and his hair, although always messy, seemed particularly ruffled and tossed as he pulled into the school parking lot. He drifted down the sloped blacktop, for the first time showing signs of sleepiness as his eyes half closed. The front tire of his bike landed perfectly in the rack in a practiced movement as he popped the bike up to jump over the first bar. With that, Nicu leaned forward to cross his arms on the handlebars and lay his head down.

Had he not been reminding himself to keep his mind busy and not fall asleep, he would have easily lost balance and fallen onto the ground. Staring blankly at the bricks before him, Nicu allowed his mind to skittishly wander from one thought to another. First he thought of the notebook he’d forgotten, and then took to wondering when company would find him. As long as his conscious thoughts were preoccupied with such little matters, he wouldn’t need to pay mind to the big things that threatened to slowly consume him.

((It's fine. :3 Sorry for being so late! This just hasn't been my week. @_@ I hope this extremely long post is alright. I just started writing and couldn't stop. Lol.))

Adrian's morning started early, not because he was looking forward to another bothersome day at school; and definitely not because he was a morning person―he hated being up before noon, but, do so every day, apart from the weekends, because he supposed that everyone had to make sacrifices to get through life; and he was not exempt from everyone, some of the time―the reason Adrian had chosen to wake up particularly early, this morning, was English class.

Not that English was his favorite subject―he really couldn't care less about it, or the losers that were in class; most of them seemed on the verge of flunking it, anyways; if the severe spelling and grammar mistakes, in their formal writing, were anything to go by. No, he was excited to go to class because of his teacher―it was always because of his teacher.

He'd developed something of a pet crush on the English Professor in his freshmen year, and since then, it progressed into something of an unhealthy fascination with the man. Oh, but don't get him wrong. He wasn't some starry-eyed school-girl who stalked the teacher all day, hoping for something that would never happen―because it was still very much illegal, to screw your teacher, regardless of how old you, or they, are.

He knew very well that he wouldn't be able to make a move on the older man, until he graduated; which is why he always kept his flirting to a minimum, in the midst of other students―lest they assume the worse... like they did with cheerleader Marcy Davis, during sophomore year, who was failing Biology and then was suddenly getting straight-A's. Of course, they thought she was 'persuading' the teacher, because she was too stupid to keep it a secret. He got fired, and she was transferred to a different school. Yeah... that wasn't a very fruitful endeavor; but it served as a good example for why he should wait 'till he was out of school, before trying to hook-up with his English Professor.

Until then, Adrian would settle for flashing the older man sultry smiles and Bette Davis eyes. Speaking of his eyes, Adrian loved his eyes; they were a pale shade of greenish-blue, and he liked to bring out the color in them, with a gentle touch of bronze eyeliner. Yeah, he wore makeup―just a fine dust of blush and some across the eyes, but not more than that; he didn't want to look like a harlot, like some of the girls he'd seen. He liked his natural looks―he just liked to enhance them, some days.

Reaching in the medicine cabinet, Adrian replaced the bottle of eyeliner on the shelf, and went on to floss and apply his favorite lip balm. Once he thought he was presentable, Adrian exited the bathroom. Straightening his clothes out, the brunette swooped into his room and scooped up his backpack; which was almost too heavy to hold in both hands, because it was filled to almost bursting, with two tome-like textbooks, and other, equally clunky, school supplies. "I'm heading out!" He announced to his parents; who were still holed up in their bedroom, trying to get the last remaining moments of rest before they too had to get up and face the day.

They were lazy, his mother and father, and they just didn't want to admit it. Apparently, they thought being a novel-writing couple (Mrs. Finnegan being the writer and Mr. Finnegan being the editor\proof-reader) counted as having a job and making an honest living. It wasn't that there was something exactly wrong with writing novels, especially if you made money like Adrian's parents did―it's just that... when you've been milking the same series of erotic novels since 1997; it's probably high-time to start that rough draft on another subject, you've probably not been thinking about.

Locking the door behind him, Adrian stepped out into the crisp morning air and sighed. No fancy candle could recreate this smell... this smell of dew on grass and―freshness. He couldn't describe it passed those two scents, and hadn't really cared to. It was hard to get poetic, when the aroma seeped into his body and filled his lungs; lulling him into a spell of lethargy he thought he shook off, when he took his shower.

Walking down the sidewalk, Adrian counted the nonexistent cracks in the concrete and the houses that looked eerily similar to each other. He hated the suburbs―no, he hated this suburb. It was exactly what pop-culture had painted the suburbs to look like. It was a quiet area with seemingly straight-laced neighbors―who, on the down-low, were just as scandalous as one of those women on Desperate Housewives―and expensive homes with white-fences out front. There were never any kids outside playing on the finely manicured lawns; since, most of them by now, were around Adrian's age, and were snotty scantily-clad mall-rats.

Right about now, Adrian wished he hadn't broken his skateboard, 'cause riding it across the blacktop would be so much more fun than voyaging to school from his increasingly depressing neighborhood on foot.

Sighing, the brunette fished out his phone and started flicking through his contacts. Someone had to be awake... He thought to himself, as he scanned the names, until finally, his eyes landed upon the name "Julianne Howler."

Aha, that busy-body popularity freak was always awake―since; bloodsucking she-wolves didn't sleep and, instead, maintained their constant state of consciousness by feasting on the vitality of other people... and coffee. Boy… did Jules drink alot of coffee.

After touching on her name twice―once was to highlight it, the other was to call―Adrian put the phone to his ear, and started humming. The conversation that followed Julianne’s initial, sleepy "Hello?" was heated and should've been considered more of an argument than anything, but, Adrian didn't hang up, until he was on school grounds.

Why would he even call Jules, if it meant they were going to be at each other's throats? Well, it was better to snuff out the animosity between the two of them, before they got to school... and... Well, she was his cousin. Family had to stick together, right?

Shoving his phone back in his pocket huffily, the clearly vexed brunette took in his surroundings for the third time that day―the second time occurring when he was walking passed a construction site, and a few of the workers started cat-calling at him.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, and aside from a few cars in the lot, there seemed to be no one else but him there. Whistling an eerie tune, Adrian wondered if one of those cars belonged to his English Professor; the older man had talked about being an early bird.

Yawning, the brunette starting looking at the plates on the cars to see if he recognized anything, when, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he show something move. Looking up, his eyes found themselves glued to the bike-rack―more specifically, the guy who was parked at the bike-rack.

Part of him wished it was some perfect stranger who had just turned up in town to start school―despite it being the middle of the semester―but; he knew exactly who it was, when he laid eyes on that bike. It was that Louise kid; douche-bag jock extraordinaire. Good lord... why did it have to be him, of all people? Okay, if he kept his head down, maybe the jerk wouldn't notice him.

The very moment the thought of hiding his face from the jock came to mind; Adrian stumbled over his shoelaces and flopped onto the asphalt. Well... there went being discreet!

((

Originally Posted by You

because it was still very much illegal, to screw your teacher

I couldn't stop Lol-ing at that line. Adrian is adorable~))

A mind desperate for even the shortest moment of rest found trouble keeping preoccupied. Idle thoughts were so hard to harbor in times of low energy. Much like the calm and drowsy brain induced by sips of alcohol, a tired brain was too honest to be comfortable. So, Nicu ran the same few thoughts through his mind time and time again in a pattern of the previous night’s math assignment, friends, and Jazzy.

That math had gone far over his head, and having long ago lost his unit circle (and unable to recreate it) certainly didn’t do much to help. Copying work would be easy enough, though. Then friends, who he expected to be late after a late boy’s night out that he’d opted out of on the grounds that “Jazzy’s so clingy.” Then back to thoughts of Jasmine, which always brought a smile to his face, but threatened to tear him apart. She’d long been so bright; one of the few lights left in what seemed a looming night. That anyone tried so hard to mold to him and fill in the growing gaps should have been enough to win undying faith. It was that he was unable to requite her service that put the hung weight of guilt on hooks on his conscience. This topic, too bitter, was abandoned to return to preoccupying himself with the assignment, triangles, and the notebook.

There it was, beneath his desk. With half closed eyes, he pictured the notebook that held his latest math assignment. So eager to take a large bite of air, it slipped his mind to actually pack his bag properly. Along with that likely sat lunch money, a calculator, and essentially everything needed for a half successful day. Old papers and junk weighed down his bag. None of this was too important, though. Academic achievement had long become tertiary after a social life and athletics. The latter two areas intermingled and often switched places, as the seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Had he been left listening to only infrequent whooshes of cars quickly dragging air as they sped too fast down a distant road and what even sounded like a bird or two, Nicu would have completely allowed himself to succumb to the sweet hug of sleep. But, the concentration necessary to actually fall asleep in such an odd position was broken by a soft crash that caught his ear.

“Are you oka-“ as Nicu sat up and turned to looked at the source of the sound, his concerned question morphed into laughter at the sight of an unnamed outcast on hard ground. The one he now pointed to, choking on his own laughter, had a face Nicu vaguely recognized. Memory worked to quickly string together the pieces and associate such a face with English class- the one who would toss flirtatious glances at the professor, the one who was almost pretty, if, perhaps, he were female. Sudden discomfort at such a notion drove Nicu to chase the idea away with continued laughter as he began typical (and not too clever) taunts. “Aw, princess, are the books too heavy? Need help getting through that big, big door?”

In his circle, Nicu knew he was likely the cruelest. Few others would have paid any mind to a fallen student when no others were around. To them, the mockery was just for fun in groups, or done in a pathetic display of dominance and strength. To Nicu, it’d become a crutch to lean against when his own grace fell short and a wall to stand behind when cornered. Already he regretted such a rude, bold reaction. Though, apologies were rarely chased out from him, and so he couldn’t back down now that a choice had been made. Now that he had taken up the role of bully and assigned the victim to the poor soul with unfortunate timing, he would be intent on playing his part to the best of his ability.

((Hehe, I'm glad you thought it was funny! I'm trying so hard to stray away from my usual, serious characters; so, it's good to hear that he's not one of them. :) I tried to make it lengthy, but I'm less poetic, in the morning, than I'd originally thought. *le-sigh*))

Adrian's body ached from impacting with the ground so hard, but it was nothing he couldn't shake off―especially, since he'd wiped out on a number of surfaces going at neck-breaking speeds; he could thank his skateboard, and the few months he took surf-boarding lessons, for that.

Glowering as Louise set upon him in the usual way―pointing, laughing, and taunting, (Who really thought to pull that crap outside of movies and cartoons, anyway!? He must not've had to worry about getting his nose broken.) Like the big bad bully in the school yard he strived so hard to be―the brunette wondered if the principle’s heart could handle the news that, yet again, he got in a fight―and, not just with anyone, but he rowed with the star child of the school.

Forget probation―he would he kicked out of school; arrested, even. Adrian had watched enough documentaries (and the occasional jail flick) to know what they did to guys like him in prison. And it wouldn't be spending long nights singing jolly tunes and painting each other's nails.

Grinding his teeth together to restrain his burning temper, Adrian tied his shoelaces in knots to keep them from coming undone later on. Standing up, sans backpack, the brunette stretched. "Oh, you've finally become man enough to pick on people when you're alone." Putting his hands on his hips, he shifted his stance to look more or less affronted. "I applaud your bravery―but, c'mon sweetheart... what about this pretty face says I won't break your friggin' arm? I wasn't forced to take mandatory anger-management courses for hugging and kissing everyone I've met."

He surprised himself with the mention of those wretched meetings. He thought he put those thoughts away in a safe place, as to never think of them again. And yet, there the memories were, as clear as day at the forefront of his mind. Adrian hadn't set foot in that youth center for close to half a year, and yet he still recalled each and every single detail of it. From the smooth beige walls, to the perfectly waxed floors... he hated that place and the guidance counselor that worked there. So fake and plastic.

Shaking off the dread that settled on him, Adrian quickly added to his statement: "Unless, of course, you want hugs and kisses from me." He batted his enhanced eyelashes for extra-effect.

It wasn't his best work, admittedly; but, he didn't feel as if he needed to have taken it back. Sure, he could've come up with something else―something better that wouldn't spur confrontation, but still had a heavier bite to it, that would more effectively hurt Louise's feelings. If he still knew how to feel, that is.

With the way he acted, Adrian wouldn't put it passed him to have sold his soul to the same demon Jules had sold hers' to. The price of popularity in high school was hefty. If you didn't lose your friends, the trust of your family, or your clean criminal record; your sense of self-worth and individuality would be completely warped.

Which is why Adrian would put up with the constant bullying and the abuse, until he graduated; he could atleast say it made him stronger as a person... and besides, to him, as long as he was honest to himself and his friends about who he was, he wouldn't ever have to feel ashamed of his behavior... or more importantly, his sexuality; which has been the subject of rumors and ridicule, ever since they figured out he was gay.

People he knew not to be homophobes came out the wood-work, and soon he had a hate-club following him around most of the day. He was pretty sure that they didn't do it for no reason―that, perhaps, most of the school's athletes were 'in-the-closet', and were mad at him for living the way they wanted to... it was just a theory.

((I've long given up on trying to be poetic. Words are just so darn hard to master))

A long sustained cast of cool cracked just a bit. The threat of having his arm broken slid right by without touching Nicu. He often heard such things spoken under the breaths of several more of those who considered themselves “free thinkers” but spoke badly out of bitterness… or in retaliation to the attacks he often began. Not once had any of the angry words been backed by actual action. The most physical he’d ever gotten after graduating middle school was with friends, when playful taps grew into light hitting and eventual fully loaded punches, until a third party came to quickly end foolishness and anger disappeared from the same nothing it’d come from. It was the latter part, the teasing offer, which had wiped away his smile and silenced laughter.

No one else was in sight- what reaction would come about if he were to try to make that request? That tease had been too cruel. It would have been so much easier had they stayed with threats that only promised physical damage. Now the idea had been seeded and if he didn’t quickly dig it out, it would take root and sprout, but all Nicu could do was stall. Still silent, he finally stood. Facing such a fear was inevitable. The opportunity to defeat it and for the last time reassure himself of who he’d always known himself to be came in the form of a clumsy fellow student, who’d literally fallen into his sight. With hesitant legs, Nicu slowly walked toward him.

It wasn’t clear who he wanted to aim a tantrum toward. Whether the fault lay with the one who’d deposited the thoughts in his head (or drawn forth those hidden beneath secret carpets) or in his own mind for hosting them so weakly was blurred by an equally scattered blend of aged frustration, fatigue, and hatred among other things.

Without taking his eyes away from that face, Nicu picked up the backpack that’d been left on the ground and held it out in what looked like a petty peace offer. “Jesus, I just laughed. You didn’t need to get creepy.”

Drowning in the sound overwhelming sound of a pulse that fluttered and quickened his voice felt distant. He’d taken himself to stand so dangerously close. Now more than ever his own curiosity made itself known in that unwavering gaze that surreptitiously fell to try and look over that other student. Careful eyes could have spotted the new tint of pink recoloring his cheeks as the day seemed to grow uncomfortably warm and smother him, though it could have passed as a sign he’d just worked hard in his biking. One who loved details even more may have even been able to take note of the small bobbing of his Adam’s apple the gulps taken as nervousness combined with wondering to produce excess saliva or the way one foot lingered behind, as though preparing to turn and run at any given moment.

So near, he could’ve reached out and pulled their faces together for just a taste that could, just maybe, forever satisfy hunger. Then he could turn away, forget the entire incident, and return to travelling down the fast lane toward that dream life so often fondly spoken of. Ten years down the road, he could be married with kids and a dog, just like the happy families of children’s stories and television. It would be something he’d never need to turn back to and face, if just once he fell to temptation.

That the idea even crossed his head made turmoil even worse. Once again, he suppressed it, though simply knowing it had even just graze across conscious thought before hiding back again in the subconscious, where he wouldn’t need to face it made him feel as though something sick had crawled between skin and body and forever left yet another stain.

Then there was poor Jazzy, who loved how well they portrayed such an ideal pair. If ever she was to gain access to unedited thoughts, her heart would have shattered into fine sand. As far as she was concerned, they were already entirely honest in the conversations shared; when together, they sat in the dark, it was safe to speak freely. She seemed to spend good stretches of time describing the future that awaited her as the loving mother to the children of a faithful high school sweetheart. He shouldn’t have dared consider doing anything that someone as perfect and pure as Jazzy could have been upset by. That alone stood as the most evil act he’d ever committed, in his mind.

The matter was only made worse with the thought not at least directed at another girl. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d never honestly found the beautiful girl attractive. He’d never thought of her as he relieved himself in the mornings. It was better that he kept his fantasies quiet, secret even from himself. In all of this, all Nicu could add was a tiny, “By the way, up yours” as a tiny release of frustration.

((Words are evil! They'll take over the word before we know it, and will enslave us all to make it happen! :illgetu: .../weirdness. Have I already said that I love your posts? They're so lengthy and full of brilliant stuff. I just want to keep replying, so I can see what you write next. :3 "I LOVE YOUR POSTS!"))

Adrian should’ve known that threatening the jock wouldn’t work—those brutes tackled and fought each other, for fun; his month and a half-worth of kick-boxing lessons wouldn’t do anything against someone as corporeal as Louise. It didn’t hurt to try, though; a lesser man would’ve backed off at the notion that a little teasing would wind up as an all-out scrimmage. If for no other reason, Adrian respected the other brunette for standing firm in the face of a challenge.

When Louise’s amusement and superficial nonchalance faltered; before completely falling away to be replaced by something that Adrian couldn’t quite discern, the brunette visibly flinched. He’d had years of practice reading other people’s expressions, and interpreting their body language—he was gay with religious grandparents; the ability to read someone was important, lest he ended up telling them at the wrong time, and they drowned him in holy water… or whatever they would’ve done, if they hadn’t pushed up daisies, when he was away at band-camp.

He was so thunderstruck at not being able to guess what the other boy was going to do next, that when Louise started advancing on him; Adrian almost took a step back. Almost…He grounded himself, though, before he could try and bolt like a child that had walked in on their grandparents reenacting their parent’s creation.

Adrian wasn’t a coward—he’d just challenged Louise to a fight; there was no way he was going to back down, if the other teen initiated a physical altercation; even though he was dressed in his favorite blue and white, Abercrombie and Fitch, crew-neck sweater—but, there was just something about the unpredictable nature of this whole situation that had the hair on the back of his neck standing to a full salute.

It didn’t help that not once did Louise’s eyes look away from him. There was nothing creepier to Adrian, than those intense eyes that were glazed over with contemplation and darkened by an all-out internal war.

Chicks apparently dug the serial killer gaze, but he could not find it within himself to agree with them in saying that it was in bit attractive. If anything, that look made getting into a van with a handsy drunk seem like a viable option.

Too bad there weren’t any plastered fellows around with their weird, carpeted vans—it being early in the morning, in a cookie-cutter community, and all. It was just him and Louise, and if the other brunette tried something, all his self-defense items; such as pepper-spray and his cousin’s hardcover copy of Twilight, were in his bag… which the other teen had started to pick up.

Opening his mouth to tell Louise to unhand his backpack, Adrian’s protests got lost on the way up his throat, when the jock made to give him the cumbersome bag. What the teen said next made all of Adrian’s apprehension and early anger and frustration melt away—only to be replaced by confusion. Was the other trying to extend the olive branch? Well, it was a bit late for that. Where was his sense of diplomacy, when Adrian had fallen?

Regarding Louise with suspicious pale green eyes, Adrian quirked up the corner of his mouth in a sly smirk, “I would hardly call my flirtations creepy. I mean, you totally led me on. No one laughs that hard, unless they want to get in someone’s pants. Mine are, admittedly, a bit tight; I don’t think you could fit. We could always try, though.”

His smirk widened, as he watched for any the smallest movements of Louise’s face and observed with sadistic glee, the way the jock seemed to be so uncomfortable in his own skin. Somehow it elicited a strange surge of euphoria in Adrian.

For what seemed like the first time in forever, Adrian’s body and baser instincts started to see Louise in a different, more primal light. The brunette was no longer an annoying, dreadful jerk—he was now an annoying, dreadful jerk who was growing increasingly attractive with every passing moment.

What the hell? Adrian thought, completely stunned, as his skin started prickling with anticipation. Anticipation for what…?

Why was Louise standing so close, anyways? Was this one of those moments; like in the Rules of Attraction, where he was living out a fantasy, amidst a real, more or less dire situation? Yeah, sure, Paul Denton was hot, and Ian Somerhalder as Paul was hotter; but, he wasn’t delusional.

His broad grin never faltered, though—even as his mind spiraled into a sea of tangents like Icarus and his melted wings did, after the idiot flew too close to the sun—until he heard Louise’s frustrated quip; only then did he let his smile softe, and take on a more alluring property. “Is that a proposition? I don’t think you’d know what to do with me.” His voice had dropped a few octaves to, hopefully, sound extremely suggestive.

Outside of talking dirty to desperate strangers on the Internet, (just for giggles, of course) Adrian hardly had any opportunities to use his ‘bedroom’ voice; but, if it pissed Louise off without starting a fight—it would be worth every day of practice, to get it to sound just right.

Not bothering to take his bag from Louise’s hand, Adrian brushed passed the brunette. “Well… C’mon now, Onion, those books need to find their way into my locker, before class.”

((Well, I love your posts and characterization... and that grandparent line... along with about umpteen other lines that made me lol. Six posts in and I'm laughing too hard for my own good~))

In the moment of weakness curiosity produced, he’d allowed control to transfer from bully to victim. All at once, his status as star athlete, half decent student, apple of the school’s eye, and ass when out of sight lost all meaning. He didn’t seem to have it in him to be threatening in the least anymore. Every snide comment, cuss, and tease he knew were so easily turned on their heads to hold sexual innuendos that could be then targeted at him. Already once his temper had betrayed him to make him vulnerable to the boomerangs he’d thrown but just couldn’t ever catch.

Nicu’s silence clearly spoke for him. That smirk was something he simply couldn’t argue against. Still, the audacity- no, the recklessness, it took for that too confident brunette to imply he’d been the one to initiate flirting was astounding. Fists tightened just slightly around the bag. It would have been so easy to fix the entire situation with a single action.

Now two options presented themselves. Two paths were laid out neatly before him, clear in his head. The first, he was certain, would lead to his eventual downfall. To give into that itching temptation that refused to sit complacent in the back of his mind (where it usually dwelt) would have come with instant relief. It could prove, at long last, that it’d all been a silly phase. Or, it could, he feared, ensnare him in a world he’d never known or wanted to be a part of. With each added second of staring, of allowing brown eyes to wander, this path made itself more and more appealing.

The second path fell back on the single answer that had never failed to resolve any of his past troubles. It could all be ended, if he would reach out and throw his fist into the same jawline his eyes studied as it continued on with a comment on pants (Nicu’d found himself only half listening now, as concentration slipped with rushing thoughts that battled to be heard against irrational, physical desire). He couldn’t bring himself to, though. His fists continued to tighten, until it seemed he was desperate to squeeze any life out of the bag handle; but, he could not drop it to bring that anger toward his tormentor.

Both options offered promise of satisfaction. Taking any rash action could put him back in the driver’s seat, but also bring to light that he’d allowed roles to reverse and a sharp tug from the puppeteer would just knock him back into the same place. At least now, if he kept what was left to be collected of his cool, there would be that question of motive.

The game was so much easier for the other side. It was just like junior high wrestling, in the rounds in which the purpose was for one to pin and the other to keep from being pinned. The rabbit in the game began directly beneath the fox. To win, he’d need to keep calm and get away.

Keeping such a high maintenance reputation put Nicu in what he felt was the position of disadvantage. Furthermore, how comparatively easily that teenager could simply move was unfair. Uncertainty and discomfort in simply dwelling in his own head restrained Nicu. The chains had always been around, but only made their presence known when he tried to stand. Now they clattered and jingled more loudly than ever. If he could not break free, it would be impossible for the rabbit to keep from being pinned. That was the first step.

The taunting only continued. This wasn’t fox and rabbit anymore, but kitten and mouse. A deepening voice, thickly sexual, pierced through any hopes of clear thought. The game was too unfair. That move was just too dirty. To finish the combination, there was a brush past- gentle contact and another set of words with suggestive connotations- sand in the eyes, a rough punch in the gut, and a final stranglehold. With that, the first round came to an end. Always a damn fine loser, Nicu kept it with that. If everything played out right, he would find a way to win again, or to compensate in another field or on another day.

For now, defeat was taken lightly. With a heavy exhale that poured out anger and whatever else had plagued him, tension released. All at once, Nicu appeared to be entirely at ease, as though with a childhood friend or a particularly good hand of cards stored away. In a sweeping motion, the backpack was tossed over his shoulder, landing on top of his own and likely further flattening the sandwich thrown in to serve as the breakfast he’d skipped.

Somewhere, he’d found the strength to keep the chaos of just earlier trapped again in some corner where they wouldn’t get in the way again until ready for release. The first of his sauntering steps to catch up with that malicious displace marked a complete straying from any clear roads and into terra incognita. Set out with the only bolo his mind and the majority of monsters (although he didn’t quite yet know) within him.

“Christ, Princess, I wasn’t serious in any of those offers,” the mocking tone he’d first used made its reappearance. The words really just fell back on the simple logic that he hadn’t agreed, yet at the same time hadn’t refused. He’d simply done, and actions alone were open to interpretation. To be discreet, that was the only power he hadn’t been stripped from. It left the door open to a change in mind that could never be detected. For now, all that was set in stone was that he’d taken the bag over his shoulder- a single, open action. What was made out of it relied on what the other thought.

“We’re in some class together, aren’t we?” a single, open question.

((Lol. Who hasn't walked in on someone in their family 'together'? :rofl: I'm so glad that we decided to RP with each other. You're just the type of writer I was looking for.))

When Louise failed to make a witty rebuttal—or get physical and belligerent; like all other bullies did, when they felt like they were fighting a losing battle—Adrian found himself hesitating mid-step to evaluate the sudden atmosphere change. It seemed that, with just a few suggestive words, the whole dynamic between them changed.

No longer did Adrian feel like he was on the defensive—like most people would, in the earlier, straight-from-a teen TV drama-situation, where the outcast found his or herself being subjected to the cruelties of the jocks or cheerleaders—instead, he discovered himself to be in a rare position of having the upper-hand.

No, wait... Adrian didn’t have the upper-hand—that would imply that Louise still had an opportunity to come back from his spell of silence with something witty ad scathing enough to win this little game of verbal tug-of-war that was going on between them; when it was obvious to the brunette that Louise hadn’t the slightest chance of beating him; now that he was armed with the knowledge that his usual flirtations made the other uncomfortable.

Adrian's breath hitched; when his mind came up with the word that it thought best described his current place of victory in their oral competition. He absolutely dominated. Okay, what the hell was that? Dominated—that’s the word he came up with? He was ahead of his whole class in English and read the dictionary like it was People magazine—and yet, for some reason, his mind could only pull up the word that reminded him most of the trash his parents wrote, and his friends clambered to get.

Great… if for whatever reason, he dropped out of high-school, he had a promising career as a phone-sex operator. He was a natural flirt and a closet-pervert, he’d do fine.

Moving on from that tangent and back to the original thought that spurred it, Adrian began turning over the idea that—wow, this is the first situation (that he knew of) where a battle was won with saccharine words and not hostility.

If not for the notion that the whole school would think him a slut, if he tried to resolve all confrontations with his charm, from then on; he would flirt with his tormentors all the time.

For now, he’d limit his flirtations to Louise—since they actually worked on him. Poor thing just had a hard time giving into his charm, unlike everyone else.

Walking slowly, so that Louise could easily keep in step with him, Adrian felt as though both of their minds were racing for solution to this situation they found themselves in together.

The brunette was sure Louise was looking for a means to move himself out of the range of Adrian’s wide-sweeping, super-efficient gay-dar—and if not that; Adrian assumed, ever-paranoid, (after watching the countless movies that brought that crappy Not Another Teen Movie into existence) that the other brunette was going to feign a sense kindness and hospitality to win his favor; so that Adrian wouldn’t, ultimately, tell the whole school of his speculations that the great Nicolae Louise was playing on the wrong side of the field.

Meanwhile, Adrian was trying to figure out how he suddenly became overwhelmingly attracted to Louise—even though, just last week; when he spotted the other picking on his not-ex-boyfriend Malcolm with his doucher pals; the brunette wanted to throw his five pound, flour-sack baby at him.

Maybe it was his eyes… or his finely groomed hair. Maybe it was because, no matter what Adrian threw at him; Louise didn’t lash out at him—the other's princess insults were weak, at best; so, Adrian brushed those off without much effort—instead, it seemed to him that the jock took this whole thing as well as any gay-in-denial could have.

He was… more or less proud of Louise—if not a little exasperated by how unbelievably cliché his sexual-identity crisis was—and found his heart swelling greedily even more with that unreasonable pride, when he heard the sound of his backpack colliding harshly with Louise’s, and jostled the items inside. Unknowingly or not, the other had just opened himself up as a willing target to Adrian's harassment.

And while Adrian was sure all his writing utensils and calculator were broken—and now, he would have to catch a ride with a friend of a friend, on his way home; so, that he could stop by an office supply store—but, he wasn’t mad… not yet, anyways—not when he was trying to grapple his speeding thoughts so he could figure out how to spin this newfound chemistry between himself and Louise to his benefit.

As he sifted through the ideas, Adrian wondered what the outcome would be if he went all out and acted like a totally slag about this and hope his tactics worked? Nah, that was bound to fail. Even if the other didn't have the restraint to keep from falling apart because of one real advance—even if Louise went with the whole song-and-dance—Adrian didn't want the jock's (hopefully) first gay experience to be a bad one. Yeah, Adrian was nice about these kinds of things... sue him.

On the other hand, the brunette hated the idea of trying to lure Nicolae into feasting from the tree of knowledge (whoa… did he just make an unintentional bible reference? He needed to stay away from his cousin’s friends.) Because… well… the other teen didn’t exactly seem like his idea of a very observant person. His hints would go unnoticed unless they were blatantly obvious and completely outlandish—like standing outside of Louise's window, holding a boom-box that was cranking out some obscure music-critics top ten favorite romance songs of all time, and shouting overused lines like, “you complete me.” Damn you, Tom Cruise for setting the bar so high!

At hearing Louise speak in that same, mildly sardonic manner from earlier, Adrian tossed a glance over his shoulder and pouted playfully, “Aw, way to get my hopes up…” Turning around, so Louise could see him—and walking backwards carefully, as to not bump into anything—Adrian held a hand to his chest, in a melodramatic display of sorrow. “…and here I was; about to kiss you—and, undo that accursed spell that evil witch put upon you—so that you could be my handsome, fairytale prince.” Shaking his head, Adrian shrugged morosely, before turning around again. “I guess you’ll find someone else to see passed your warty, frog-exterior, Onion.”

Twirling his fingers in the frayed ends of his sweater, Adrian jogged up the short flight of stairs that separated the duo from the school’s heavyset, double doors. Louise’s question about their shared class made him raise his eyebrow, “Yup… we're in English, together. I don’t know how you could possibly know that, though—since, you don’t seem to know my name; despite their being role-call everyday. Besides, can't you only recognize the back of my head, since I'm sure I sit way ahead of you, in class.”

Stopping at the top of the stairs, so Louise could catch up, Adrian looked down him with an amused grin, “S’like… I’m a prostitute to you jocks—you screw around with me, get your kicks, and then leave; before I can get what I deserve from our dreadful exchanges. You guys should really work on that... sooner or later, all your outlets will wizen up, and start charging you for their services.”

((... Way to bring back horrible memories! I'll never be clean again!
And, you flatter me <3 Though, I'm happy about our playing together, too.))

It was too clear that there was a dangerous amount of thought running through that brunette’s head. The small hesitance between a step and a quiet hitching of breath had made that clear. Perhaps, it would have been safest to have gone with the usual fallback and turn to violence when words first ran low and lost power. Detention was much more welcoming than the prospect of not only allowing a third party to shred the life nearly eighteen years in the making in a single day, a single moment, with a single sentence, maybe even a single word. It was in acknowledging this that again warned his defenses had always been poorly constructed. Like many high school athletic teams, he’d relied too heavily on offense, and left the rest to rot away and weaken.

Worse yet, it was undeniable now that he wasn’t acting as much a victim as an accomplice. Nicu had accepted the invitation in thoughtlessly taking the bag and now he followed through in walking with his apparent tormentor. To call it Stockholm would have eased the itch of knowledge, but been inaccurate. There was still a chance to run, in fact. No force put up by the other kept him trailing like a loyal puppy. All of this happened because somewhere in a forgotten crevice of his mind, he wanted to take the risk. Maybe it was out of some form of lesser masochism that Nicu tortured himself in such a fashion; perhaps he deserved it for some previous wrong.

His feet moved by his will. His eyes travelled down the figure of that dangerous brunette because he wanted to look, and they shot back up to look on the face when the other turned around only to linger longer than comfort levels would usually allow. If only he’d been tossed angry fists or hushed cusses and forced into such a position. At least then, the stain of these actions wouldn’t be placed upon him. Then, there would be proper excuse.

The mocking words that came with the turn doused any hopes that he could be free of guilt as nothing more than victim. If they were layered with seriousness, either curiosity would nestle and lay the eggs of obsession, or he’d need to take action and further place responsibility on himself. If they weren’t, it could very well mean that he’d taken on the role of feather toy and was being tossed around for amusement.

Either way, it had become undeniable that uncertainty had been detected. If even Nicu could bring himself to admit to it, then it must have surely been shouted out in his little nervous ticks. Complete eye contact was entirely impossible. As though he was on the grandest caffeine high of his life, his glance began to wander without focus. First, a second toward the ridged bricks, then half at the other teen, then onto the sidewalk, and an out of place stare that outlasted the other three levels back at the other, then a repeat until their faces no longer met and it was again safe to focus.

The closest thing to a reply Nicu gave was a strange, half-smile that had appeared on his face sometime in walking. Despite sweaty palms and constant, nervous shifting of the bags, his face somehow took it upon itself to pull together and hold any hints of cool left. At least, with a devious smile, he could be mistaken for having a plan or even just joking around. He’d been trying so hard to compose one, but nothing sensible came to mind.

Again, that mobility he lacked was flaunted by the other teen, who’d just earlier turned to face him so comfortably and now carelessly busied his fingers with threads as he went quickly up the steps. Before reaching the first step, Nicu stopped to look up as the other spoke.

He found his eyes hovering too long in observation. That face was certainly familiar, though in a flood of parallel thoughts, a name refused to fit it. At least giving identity to his captor would have returned a small feeling of control. And, identities came with dirt (as now his was threatened with being muddied). Blackmail could be countered with blackmail, if worse came to worst.

Nicu’d never been much of a planner. He never had to rely on knowledge and deception to defend himself. Once or twice, he may have pictured a fist in the face of a foe before making such a dream a reality, but he’d never really thought to lay out a course of action.

The idea dissolved in the same instant it formed. Such inescapable methods that too involved the brain were so sneaky and impure. In the face of all of the misery he caused and all of his extravagant showing off, apparently, he’d managed to stay innocent enough to still stay away from the ugly world that abused the control gained with holding insight. Either that, or he’d become too distracted by simpler thoughts that had run along beside and now surpassed the previous main idea being tossed around.

Instead, he told himself he was the moment was a fluke- he’d been tricked. At the same time, he wondered what would happen if he again closed the distance and went as far as to respond as though comfortable. He even went as far as to partially distract himself by trying to shift all the way back to that math assignment. With so much fighting for attention, it was impossible to actually take anything from any of it. Confusing himself was about as productive as simply not thinking, and all at once, it seemed he’d put it aside all together as his smile faded and emotion was wiped clean from his face.

As soon as there was the shortest stint of silence, Nicu dashed up the steps to stop just one from the top. The poor contents were again abused as, in the same swift motion, both backpacks slid from his shoulders so they tumbled down the stairs.

That had all come in a second of blind impulse- something he worked to fight. There wasn’t time to lose momentum. Again, he’d brought himself near. Again, he’d made retreat utterly impossible. Rather than make a dramatic move and so suddenly cower, to leave himself standing too close, still staring and likely stuttering, his hands made the choice to execute without pause. As quickly as he’d conquered the distance and his disapproving conscience, Nicu took a bunch of the other brunette’s sweater in the same manner he once often used on those that irked him (or happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time).

Nicu’s fist trembled at the force he used to squeeze that sweater as though he sought to strangle it. Emotion returned to that concentrated stare in the form of something nervous and out of place.

Still in the same fluid motion of having run up the stairs while dropping the bags and then taking hold of the teen that should have very well been his target of the day, Nicu finished closing distance as he pulled down so faces met (likely at an odd angle. In his haste, he couldn’t even notice).

((:gonk: I'll never be clean, again, either!
You're really good. Some of the words you use, I had to think back to my dictionary reading days to remember the definition. :lol: You challenge me to be a better writer, I swear.))

Just the sound of Louise shuffling on after him, without single grievance or malicious comment under his breath; like an obedient manservant from a culturally relevant book or movie—(Shocking, he lived in the library when his social life was put on the back burner, and yet Adrian’s mind was drawing blanks as to what series, in recent history, had a manservant in it, that was believable… porn didn’t count)—had Adrian’s toes squirming in his sneakers.

Actually, it had him jittering all over—like he had stuck his finger in a power outlet, and was still feeling the electrical currents pulsing through his nervous system—because, really, there was no way in hell that this was supposed to be this easy. This exchange should’ve ended at the first boundary crossing flirtation—no way should Louise have let this thing between them progress to the point of the two of them walking together with naught a trace of animosity in the air.

The other brunette should have offered more of resistance to Adrian’s lighthearted teasing and innuendos—he should have fallen back on the tried-and-true anger and violence to keep Adrian’s mind from whirring to the conclusion that, ‘Yes, Nicu was gay and, no, you shouldn’t stop flirting with him.’

And yet, Louise did nothing and said nothing to expunge Adrian’s rightful speculations—unlike any other guy who was staring down (or up) at the face of the one of many things that could make him question his sexuality, the jock didn’t even seem to be trying to convince Adrian that he thought ill of their budding attraction.

If anything, his silence made Adrian think that the jock was debating how he would broach the situation between them, without giving the other brunette a means to blackmail him. As if Adrian was going to try—but, he gave Louise points for being paranoid. Some of the other students could greatly benefit from not hanging their dirty laundry out for everyone to see.

Briefly, Adrian wondered what it was like in Louise’s mind—was he as calm and mischievous as he looked; or was that a carefully constructed façade to keep Adrian from seeing how stirred up and frazzled his mind really was.

The brunette knew one thing for certain; the way Louise’s eyes would fix on him at random—but, would never truly meet his own gaze, a look of timidity and thoughtfulness visible in those dark eyes—was more than kind of hot.

As Adrian stared down at his silent companion, he noticed something odd about him—like, his stance was shifting… becoming predatory. ‘What was he about to do?’

Adrian got his answer, when Louise hurriedly advanced on him—dropping their backpacks in the process; which made Adrian fuss in protest, “Hey, what the hell?! It’s not like I keep more than Styrofoam in there!”—and snatched him up by the woolen fabric of his streaked jumper.

The material stretched under Louise’s vice-like grip, and Adrian made a put-out face at the thought that his expensive pullover was probably going to be overextended and horribly wrinkled; if he didn’t get the brunette to let up on his tight hold, soon.

Bringing his hands up to grip onto Louise’s wrists, Adrian started to tell him off—the scathing words of reprimand were already forming on his tongue—and, was promptly interrupted, when the other brunette brought their mouths together in a hurried movement.

Adrian’s eyes sprang wide open, as he felt the warmth of Louise’s lips on his—and, his brain all but shut down; as his hands gained a mind of their own and relinquished their lenient hold on the jock’s wrist to find a better hand-hold in the fabric of Louise’s shirt. His lengthy, pink-tinged manicured nails dug into Louise’s chest and back, and in the deep recesses of his mind; Adrian reveled in the feel of the lean, corded muscles that were hidden under the other’s clothing.

Miraculously enough, this kiss (if it could be called a kiss) between them wasn’t anything like in the movies—despite, the clichéd feel of the whole situation they found themselves in… even the fact that Louise had kissed him out of overwhelming impulsiveness more than anything else, was straight out a B-rank romance movie—not that he was complaining, though. Adrian very much liked it.

There were no fireworks in his chest—it didn’t magically start raining… truth be told, it wasn’t even one of the best kisses Adrian had ever been on the receiving end of—and yet, he couldn’t have asked for more than this sloppy, and somewhat harsh, press of Louise’s lips on his.

Not wishing to scare the other off—even though, he wasn’t the one who initiated the kiss, Adrian was sure that if he made the wrong move, Louise may push him away—the brunette kept his lips together, despite the strong urge to try and deepen the kiss.

His mind was so caught up in trying to maintain the level of chasteness in the kiss, that Adrian didn’t notice that he had bodily closed the gap between Louise’s chest and his, until he felt the other's chest moving against his.

((Plus four confidence! Though, I cannot seem to write lately D;))

There was no room for conscious thought when impulse took hold of the wheel, set on barreling down the fastest road to reward. To his shame, the first feeling to come was an intense satisfaction. The method of so amateurishly forcing such an interaction was awkward, but pleasure seemed to stem more from the mind anyway. For having overcome fear, there was the high of momentary invincibility. With just that action, he’d again found a small share of control. That the tables had again been so quickly turned was all that could be concluded in the hazy second they shared.

Pride gave way to guilt when distance between chests lessened so his hand had become sandwiched between the two and his rational mind stepped in to be sure he was fully aware that he enjoyed the warmth, closeness, and especially the lightness of nails against the fabric of his shirt. It was with that, that Nicu decided he had enough. Had his advance been welcomed anymore with an open mouth or hands more prone to wandering, pulling away would have been so much more impossible. For having taken such authority in limiting the intensity of that too quick and too bold moment, Nicu was half inclined to pull away and mutter his appreciation.

The pulse of a heart that beat as though it wished desperately for an escape was too much to handle. Although his grip had loosened and Nicu pulled his face away (pushing the other as he did so) Nicu did not let go. Again, he’d taken to looking ready to ask for lunch money with that stern and proud posture meant to send shivers down the spines of those who dared find their way to his blacklist.
Still unable to bring himself to look directly at Adrian’s face, Nicu again betrayed himself. First there came the odd calm as in pulling away, there was temptation to repeat and search for the things he’d just enjoyed again. This was replaced by guilty, apologetic eyes that found way to linger on his face even when his tone took on something bitter. He’d taken to looking even more like a puppy, first with his irrational following, and now with his sudden excited jump up onto his master and quick retreat upon remembering that the action was frowned upon.

“Damn little…” There was such a long list of slanderous terms that could’ve completed his hiss, but none could find their way out of his tongue. Anything said could again turn, but silence had dug the grave he just earlier had temporarily allowed himself to call home. Firing anything would be better than losing that tiny hint of direction he’d stolen.

“You probably enjoyed it, sick,” a laugh laced in his voice, which was still broken by the deep breath he selfishly swallowed to settle excited muscles down again. Somehow, Nicu almost made a joke out of it. “I hope you know I don’t really swing that way… I mean, I do have a girlfriend, and she’s hot as fuck.” Even just saying it brought another load of relief. He always had Jazzy to keep him in line. As long as he begged, she would find a place to stand beside.

Just what ran through his mind was undecipherable even to him, creating the strangest set of uncertain body language that clashed and worked together to send a wide and all sweeping message composed of opposites. If some ideas hadn’t been ignored, sorting would have been made so much easier, but there were still lines and boundaries which couldn’t be crossed even in the safe haven of his own mind.
His fingers still lightly fumbled with that sweater, apparently, he forgot to completely release the other. Even as his attention was at last pulled to scan the grounds and search down the road, inspired by the paranoid fear that someone may have witnessed that slip up. Before completing this check, a car arriving from the distance caught and held his eye. His savior, his friend, and his escape, coming to rescue him from his very self (someone he was only just learning he could never bring himself to trust). With that, he freed the poor fabric, still forgetting to fully break contact as his hand remained planted on the other’s chest and the rest of him still standing closer than what should have been comfortable.

A small smile appeared on his face at the sight of the familiar vehicle. Its red body caught and reflected the sunlight like a proper hero’s chariot as it barreled down the road faster than the legal. He’d been the one to wash it, just two or so days ago. Even just briefly giving attention to remembering this, how he’d been so comfortable in intentionally soaking in soap to hear that innocent laughter, brought a clear warmth and confidence back to Nicu with the promise of being freed of discomfort.

“See, that’s probably her,” his eyes didn’t leave the road as he spoke, and the words came out in such a mutter that made it seem as though he spoke more to reassure himself than to prove the weak point he’d earlier brought up.

((Yay for confidence!
I know how you feel. I'm having writer's block like it's no one's business. :rofl:))

Even though, in a reality, the kiss had only lasted a fleeting moment—to Adrian, it seemed to have lasted forever. And while that was totally romantic—having this surreal, picturesque experience forever etched in his mind—his joints were starting to ache mutually from the spill he took earlier, and the weird positioning of his body, as he stood too close.

Never had it occurred to him before now, but now that he was standing chest to chest with the other brunette, he discovered just how much taller than him he was—sure, it wasn't much of a height difference… just enough to force him to stand on his toes, if he wanted Louise's shoulders to be at level with his own.

Somehow, the stature variance was enough to make kissing the jock that much more difficult—that's when Adrian realized that… wow… Louise was, admittedly, the tallest person he'd ever kissed, and hadn't yet worked out how he was supposed to angle his body to settle comfortably against him.

Adrian's thoughts were interrupted, as time started moving at normal pace again, and Nicu relinquished the intimate hold on his mouth. Instead of complaining at the loss of contact; instead of attempting to initiate another kiss; Adrian stayed stone still, hands loosely digging into Louise's shirt, before they retreated to his sides.

Again, the other brunette wouldn't look him in the eye—and now; having let his mind finish imprinting every detail of Louise's lips in his brain, Adrian was finally brought back to reality; and within his right mind, no less. Dear god, did he miss his wit and reason—without it, right now, he'd be hurt that Louise pushed him away.

Trying to keep his countenance as neutral as possible, even though his logical mind was warring with his irrational one—sending his thoughts spiraling around like a fishing boat caught in a tempest—Adrian brought a hand to his face to wipe off the Chap Stick that he was sure had smeared around his mouth, during the kiss.

His palm had just touched his chin, when Adrian paused to glare at Louise. The jock had started saying something—and while, he interrupted himself, before he could finish his statement, Adrian had a feeling the other had planned to call him would be offensive enough to make him want to punch the jock in the face.

Adrian stayed his hand—despite, the potent boil of anger and exasperation that made him tense his jaw. “You seemed to have enjoyed it more than I did.” Wiping off whatever amount of Chap Stick that was left, Adrian forced himself to smirk; regardless of his less than ever souring mood.

“Oh, please—don't give me that crap about how attractive your girlfriend is. She could be Megan Fox, and that wouldn't matter—because you kissed me, and I didn't make you do it. You kissed me, because you wanted to—and, yet; you're telling me you're not gay. You're a bigger idiot than I once thought.”

Reaching up and grabbing the jock's wrists, Adrian glowered when the other brunette looked over his head at—Adrian turned his head just a bit to follow Louise's gaze, which was fixed on a bright, cherry red car.

And, aw crap, He'd recognize that obnoxiously colored, safety-hazard of a vehicle anywhere. It belonged to a girl named Jasmine. Adrian only spoke to her in passing, but practically every person he hung out with knew her well enough to only say good things about her—(and, yet, they somehow managed not to tell him that she was dating Louise!)—which, may he say, made him feel really crappy and guilty at the realization that he'd just kissed her boyfriend.

Guilt settled into his stomach like a cinder block—at the thought that he was crushing on a 'spoken for'-guy—and nothing stopped Adrian from shoving Louise with all his strength. “Oh, my god! You're an asshole! You're an asshole, and I hate you so much, right now!”

Clenching his hands into fist, the brunette moved to collect his bag off the ground. “Any other girl in the school, and I wouldn't care that you're trying to put the moves on me; but, no fucking way, you'd have to be dating Jasmine, of all people…" Cursing as he jogged down the short flight of stairs, Adrian shook his head furiously. "Do I look like I like that kind of drama? School sucks, as is, don't get me messed up with your girlfriend.”

((It took me a good five minutes to come up with "venereal" because I wanted another "V" word to match with "violent." Writer's block certainly does suck.

... and I somehow managed to forget, "-ing murder" in the last threat when first typing. Lol'd for another five minutes. This post took way too long.))

Although he stood taller than the other, Nicu seemed suddenly small at the sight of that smirk. Those words hit between cracks of his so sturdily built confidence to scratch where vulnerable. There was something so wrong about it, playing the passive role after knowing only the part of the aggressive. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, this sense that the situation was so absolutely wrong in ways he couldn’t even identify caused that unfounded loathing of that brunette to fester, burn, and slowly begin to grow into something serious.

Too caught up in his own messy head, he could only take in the caustic sting created by the blunt retelling. There it came, rapidly consuming his entirety from the inside out, the irresistible team of shame and disgrace as his body seemed to take it upon itself to condemn him. It came as an imaginary physical ache that began with weakening limbs and quickly ended by swallowing his stomach and weighing down all else. It was impossible to absorb the shove that caught him by surprise.

Nicu only became aware of having lost his balance when a hand took it upon itself to take hold of thin, metal railing that painfully caught his back as his body swung down, old paint chipping and metal bars digging deep before tossing him back up just a bit to bounce and catch him again. The wince that accompanied this easily shifted to the furrowed brows and sneer of anger as raw temptation shifted from a venereal interest to a violent pursuit.

In one way, the anger was a welcome change, and the portion of his self in the clear eye of its storm was almost thankful for it. There would be no need to worry about being the one to break the closeness. Fists had clenched hard enough to whiten his knuckles as that long drought of eye contact was broken by another intense stare (the sort that would be labeled, by the high school crowd, the “epic death stare”). The new focus on a single feeling, a single desire, came with a release of relief- as long as he was busy wanting to throw a fist in that face, he wouldn’t be busy thinking of pressing his own against it.

Then, it was all brought back to the same thing that had tackled Nicu again and again. Escape was entirely impossible, although he’d come so close as many times as he’d been faced with it.

Jasmine, of all people.

Fingers slackened as Nicu allowed himself to fall to fully sit on the steps. Resting his arms on widespread legs, he eyed the large portion of concrete between his feet, as though he was fully intent on memorizing where every crack ran through or uncovering the long lost footsteps of ants daring enough to wander so far from nests onto dangerous grounds. With a heaving sigh, Nicu took the full stance of a broken being. The only words willing to accompany him in this fall were a careful string of cusses that exploded out of a stiff jaw.

Roughly running a hand through his hair, unsettling it and tossing it in the process, Nicu quickly brought his face up. Despite the venom in his voice, his face had calmed upon being relieved of eye contact, even for the briefest moment. A single, heavy breath later, Nicu was entirely at ease, at least temporarily.

“Y’know, I’ve learned my lesson and I admit it. I’m a really, really big dick,” his tone was choked with a forced chuckle that rigidly laced with his words in such a way that either made example of his point or worked to make him seem to be bordering hysterics.

Any progress made in the course of their little walk seemed quickly lost as his act came full circle. The stupid, school-yard bully was followed by the frightened little dog that led up to that too eager little predator, and it all came back to the bully, who contained troubles within himself through threats and laughter.

“Really, though, it’s only fair that I warn you,” his voice lost any previous laughter, dropping to gain new solemnity, “If you go around telling anyone about any of that- especially Jazzy- I will be knee deep in your ass. I will fucking murder you in your sleep.”

A grin finally found its way to Nicu’s face with the flaring nostril of a challenging expression as again, though this time slowly, with a newfound coolness, his hand made way through already tossed hair and that impossible look of having shrunk disappeared in the exaggerated arch in his back in an attack position and the matching shape of cocky eyebrows.

((I know what you mean about post taking too long! D: I’ve been in a rut for ages… I want to see the post flying in here, like when we started, but I keep running out of things to say that I haven’t already said.))

If he had been in a better mood, Adrian would’ve somewhat surprised that his shove was strong enough to put Louise off balance; hell, he would have given the other brunette a taste of his own medicine. He had had plenty of taunts imprinted in his mind, just in case a situation wherein he got the upper-hand over Louise arose—not to mention that he’d been practicing his evil laugh; so that it was at least a fraction as spirit-crushing as the jeers he was forced to endure growing up.

Alas, he was not in that good mood—and as he bounded down the short flight of steps to snatch his bag off the ground; his level of anger fluctuated between general brusqueness and pissy utterances, to immense amounts of teeth-chattering wrath; which, apparently, made him want to do two things—turn around and kiss Louise to within an inch of his miserable, bullying life; girlfriend that everyone loves and aspires to be, be damned. The second, less legal inclination was to snuff out the jock with a bizarre combination of hitting him over the head with his textbooks, and strangling him with the armbands of his backpack.

Collecting both his and Louise’s backpacks off the ground, Adrian turned back the to jock and glowered. All his life, Adrian was tempted with things he could not have, or should not have been able to get; siblings, pets, etcetera—and, of course, being the kind of rebel he was, all his life; he challenged the notion that he wasn’t supposed to have it.

His mother said he couldn’t have a cat, because she was allergic; and the following week, Adrian found and brought home a stray, which he took care of, in clandestine, until his dad discovered it out of his room, when he was at school. There was no big blowup; Mr. Finnegan just put the cat out, and told Adrian it ran away—of course, Adrian hadn’t believed his father’s claims to be true; he was just glad to not be responsible for another breathing being.

When adolescence commenced, Adrian was given the talk—at the time, his parents hadn’t known about his homosexuality; neither did he, really—and then promptly told that, while his parents didn’t mind him getting a girlfriend; there would be no fooling around on his part, until he was much older. He, of course, found a way around it and the rest was history.

The point is, Adrian got what he wanted; and, judging by the increasing amount of fantasies about Louise and himself that assaulted his mind—(fantasies that made it really hard to hate the other brunette; made it really hard to do anything but drool)—he wanted the jock. And he wanted him despite knowing so much negative stuff about him—despite hating Louise for being an asshole and, because he was dating Jasmine—and… and...

Frustration made Adrian throw Louise’s backpack on the ground by the jock—the corners of his mouth quirked upwards involuntarily, when he heard the contents of the backpack be jostled around. “Cute. You only learn something, when your dick is involved.” He replied tersely, slinging his own bag back over his shoulder. The weight of it brought on a painful tugging sensation in his muscles, but he ignored it.

Adrian’s eyebrows twitched at Louise’s threat; god, there was so much he could say to counter the jock’s intimidation. When he opened his mouth, however, he just couldn’t find the witty words. Floundering for a moment, Adrian cleared his mind, before advancing on Louise and crouching down by his feet. “Listen here, Onion, don’t you dare threaten me. You don’t get to threaten me—you can kick my ass, I admit it, but I can ruin your life.”

Mimicking the menacing tone of voice Louise had used, Adrian smirked, “Remember this—I’m not the blackmailing type—but, if I was… all it takes is one half-truth…” His voice trailed off dangerously, as he tried to maintain eye-contact with the jock. “For instance, all I have to say, to anyone really, is that you made me do ‘it’ in the parking lot, before school, and wham—your ass’ll be subjected to the same hell as everyone else… or worse, no one—not even us ‘outcasts’ will want anything to do with you. Remember that Hangman poem we had to write an essay about? You’ll be in just as bad of a position as the poor narrator.” His smirk grew wider, as he patted Louise on the shin before he stood up.

“…don’t you worry, though, I’m not the blackmailing type—and even so, I’m a considerate blackmailer. If it ever came to that, I wouldn’t lie and say I didn’t want you to have your wicked way with me; I’ll just say I put up a bit of resistance, you do have a girlfriend, after all...”

((I was away marching... then I went and got myself sick and then Mene was down. This post actually wrote itself =D I may be out of my rut and ready for speedy posts))

It took all of his daring and courage to keep from visibly flinching as distance was again being closed by that cruel, cruel brunette. To busy his eyes and prevent them from faltering to show discomfort, Nicu looked down at the bag that lay messily just out of arm’s length.

Surely by now his sandwich was well flattened in the manner that had amused him so in childhood. There’d once been a time when Nicu intentionally placed books on and sat atop his lunch under the belief that things tasted better flat. Allowing himself to distribute focus between the moment and that silly thought made it so much easier to maintain his cool as he held eye contact with the other.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to hide the dramatic bobbing of an Adam’s apple at the first word- worry hadn’t even waited to hear the threat in its entirety. Immediately letting go of the hint of weakness, Nicu redeemed himself in carrying on with the painfully direct stare and keeping his posture intact (although it would have been so much easier to admit defeat and end the moment with either a trail of dust or bruised knuckles).

A poem and an essay? As with many of his assignments, the sheets long sat half completed among other neglected works until, finally, his all-around hero came to sweep the horrible mess away and redeem his GPA. That he slid by on excuses was as common knowledge as his frequent reliance on that pretty little ghost writer of his, who only asked for sweet romance and time in return. Jazzy had always been particularly captivated by rhymes and rhythms, insisting that Nicu at least sit and hold the pencil as she slowly fed him lines that she expanded upon too quickly for his slow and messy script to follow. Half of what she said went in and out in a matter of seconds, leaving only the shallowest imprints as the sheer excitement of her voice lulled Nicu into a distracted calm.

Somewhere though, in some secret part of memory, the tiny connection was made. Apparently, something stuck. Ironically, he couldn’t at all picture himself as that narrator. It was more as though the hangman found himself with a noose wrapped around his throat and ready to strangle, with the fearful folk not standing by, but cheering. If he tried hard enough to examine that thought, he would have sworn that in the distance, he too stood allied against himself.

Allowing himself to drift off into thoughts with no focus was dangerous territory. One journey could be a wonderful distraction while the very next would only bring reality into full fruition. The poem fell into the second category and before it could present any more danger, Nicu cleared the thoughts from his head. The moment in which he did so was made clear as his presence seemed stronger with a more convincing scowl and the return of his mischievous little smirk.

“Princess, who’s gonna believe that?” Contact to his shin was met with another little flinch, although his stare remained unwavering. “You don’t even have a name, as far as I’m concerned.”

Nicu followed along, pushing himself off of the stairs and onto his feet, only to find that he was again met with a suffocating closeness that filled him with the strangest sensation of excitement and bitter resentment. As though he’d become entirely comfortable with the situation, Nicu lightly placed a hand on the other teen as he (surprisingly) gently pushed through to clear the path between himself and his school books. Being able to touch without caving was like a test he’d set up for himself. The action came with a release of relief as he bent over to, with his free hand, swoop the bag easily from the ground to its proper place on his back.

So abused in its years of use (on the bottom, one could even find scraggily printed initials done by Nicu’s fifth grade hand), the favored strap snapped so it again fell roughly onto the concrete. This again was ignored by the still smirking teen as he finally broke intimacy by turning attention back to the parking lot where the little, red car was first pulling in to find the first available space.

“I mean, good for you, you can talk shit, but that implies someone will listen,” the chuckle in his voice faded as quickly as it had come, “I can kick your ass and it’ll have the same effect whether or not anyone else cares… and I swear I fucking will.”

In all honesty, Nicu already knew his words to be a lie. It seemed, whenever they got close and any words were exchanged, he couldn’t bring himself to quite finish clenching his fist or even grinding his teeth. Ever since the encounter first began, there was that part of Nicu that knew violence would have been the easiest answer, but he’d gone on to very nimbly ignore it and now, as they again were close, he realized it was quite impossible to even imagine such an option when a tender numb overtook any parts of him that had been touched and even the smallest hint at suggestiveness set him off.

He must’ve been a masochist, he figured of himself, for secretly enjoying each second and loving the sound of the voice that gave threats and for wanting something that he knew could only bring torment. He needed to create a safety cushion between them, to push the other away or to find the best route for escape, but each second seemed slow in awaiting Jazzy to drag him back to the life he knew well.

((Ah, I see... I hope you're not feeling under the weather anymore; and, I'm glad to have you back on here. :3 *Claps* That's awesome to hear! I was out of my rut, then Mene went down, and now I'm in my rut again. Life is so cruel. :gonk:))

Adrian felt as though his face would tear in half, in an unattractive Glasgow smile—the corners of his lips were quirked up so high. Never mind that Louise had blown off practically everything he had said—and, ultimately sent a flaming, metaphorical tennis-ball whizzing back onto his side of the court; one that was probably best to just let pass him by, lest he try to return it and fail miserably—it was the fact that he could just feel the fleeting hints of paranoia wafting off the other brunette, (or, atleast he thought he did) that made him almost dizzy with glee.

“We don’t know that for sure, Onion—I’ve got plenty of friends… and so does Julianne…” Adrian almost laughed, as his mind conjured up an image of how comically surprised his cousin and cheerleader friends’ faces would look, if he told them that he had been kissed by Louise. “Of course… if you’re going to posture and threaten to beat the living hell out of me, I don’t plan to find out immediately.”

That glee soon morphed into purely hormone-driven anxiety, when Louise touched his shoulder. The need to touch, whilst being touched grew so strong, that it caused Adrian to almost chew through the inside of his cheek, to prevent himself from acting on that impulse—especially, as the warmth of the other’s hand permeated his sweater.

Good lord… with just the right amount of maneuvering, he could kiss him, again—he could kiss Louise, and put an end to this stupid pissing-match between the two of them. Whether the squabbling would cease, because Louise knocked his lights out—or because the jock would finally let go of his misgivings, and let himself be pulled out of the closet—Adrian didn’t know… he didn’t try to think too far ahead into the future with unpredictable situations such as this.

Though, no matter how hard he tried to suppress fantastical scenarios in his mind, Adrian almost trembled at the thought of kissing Nicu, again. He actually did shudder, though, when he thought about Louise’s girlfriend and how hurt she would be to learn of the jock’s faithlessness.

Wow, he thought of himself as a home wrecker, and he hadn’t even done anything reprehensible, yet! Damn his shame. He got into fights at school, no problem, but couldn’t strong-arm someone into a relationship with him—because of their sweetheart girlfriend. It was a romance novel dilemma, if he hadn’t ever seen one!

Half-aware of the world outside of his mind, Adrian let himself be shepherded out of the way by the jock. Either now (or, atleast sometime before the end of days) he was going to have to either buck up, and cross the invisible, almost completely blurred, line that stood between them and do something. He wasn’t going to let Louise think he held some sort of power within this ‘thing’ between them.

Listening to the taller brunette’s intimidation and how all the humor drained from his voice, Adrian watched Louise with scrutinizing light-colored eyes, as he picked up his shabby knapsack.

“You’re listening right now—and you seem to be hanging on my every word. I’m beginning to think you like the sound of my voice.” Chuckling, Adrian stretched his arms over his head, “I think I should find that threatening, but I don’t. I can’t seem to separate in my mind that you kissed me, and then started shrinking away from me like a schoolgirl.”

Working the kinks out of his back, the brunette sighed when, suddenly, his leg—more specifically his pocket—started vibrating. He had probably just received several text messages at once. Scowling, Adrian liberated his phone, and confirmed his suspicions. More than a few students had anxious contacted him to figure out if he had procured them a copy of his Math homework—the poor things had gotten swept away in distraction after distraction; as they prepped an abandoned apartment unit for an upcoming party, and out of the grace of his heart, Adrian had agreed to help them get caught up in homework, if they promised to invite him to said function.

Adrian sighed, wondering if two sleepless nights of studying was worth a party. Free booze and guys from out of town… hmm, it sounded just as tempting now, as it did, when it was first brought to his attention.

“Well, Onion, it was nice talking to you—the banter was a little melodramatic, this time around, but nonetheless entertaining...” Turning off his mobile to avoid any further odd sensations in his pockets, the brunette smiled sweetly at Louise. “I won’t forget you, even as I slink off to the library to actually learn something; as your attempts to seduce me were bold and delightful, for your first try.”

Waving his phone and blowing kisses in a way that only looked endearing when a movie damsel did it, Adrian turned to leave, “You might want to wipe your face… you’ve got my Chap Stick all over your mouth. Oh, and tell Jasmine that I said `Good morning.’ Lord knows you’ll need something to tell her, since conversation between the two of you is going to be really awkward, now that you’re sticking toes out of the closet...”

((I'm joining you in the rut again... party in the rut?))

Julianne Howler, the very mention of that caffeine addled made his face scrunch in a wince. Princess had another ace in the hole. Each move made the game more dangerous, as this became apparent. There wouldn’t be a life to return to or a sweet girl to pull him from whatever graves he dug if word got out. In his discomfort, Nicu was only able to respond with continued staring, even as he tugged his bag off of the ground and swung the good strap over his left shoulder.

The incoming texts were a terrible confirmation and a wonderful blessing. At the very least, pulling that phone out of his pocket and shutting it off had distracted the other teen from Nicu’s lack of action. No more threats came. They were all trapped behind a throat that felt as though it had swollen shut, unable to make it to his already stupidly open and waiting mouth.

The only thing that he was certain he wanted was for their exchange to at least come to a pause long enough for his thoughts to slow. His head had been spinning and wild since he first took that other brunette by the sweater and suddenly it became even worse, so much so that he would’ve stumbled although standing still if he hadn’t been keeping his eyes so focused on the sweater-wearing teen.

“Look, Dude,” clearing his throat Nicu began again, though this time with a slow calm that was usually saved for negotiating with teachers and his dad. “I laughed at you earlier, called you a name, whatever. I mean, let’s grow up and get over it. I’m sorry, we can move on with life. You don’t need to ruin me.”

An uncharacteristic seriousness had washed over him as he wiped his now downward curved lips with the back of his hand. Again, Nicu shifted out of his discomfort, for the first time completely pulling his attention away to watch Jazzy’s car door fly open with enough force to send it half bouncing back to a hand that had already been expecting it to come again. Jazzy had never been one to remember that even a car could dent. She was so innocently out of touch with most of the world, and that made it so easy for her to focus on happiness- Nicu’s, strangers’, it never mattered, she drew her own joy from it all. It made her so annoying, but at the same time so impossible to disappoint.

“Seriously, just stop. Stop talking to me and go the fuck away already,” Nicu continued to roughly wipe his lips, as though he’d become thoroughly convinced that the Chap stick had managed to soak into his skin to forever stain him and mark him for having done that dirty deed, “Ple-”

“Hey, Nicu!” Jazzy interrupted from the other side of the parking lot, still beside her car. With little jumps that lacked rhythm, she waved madly. Somehow, she never showed signs of fatigue, although she had slept less than Nicu.

As he’d been speaking, that girl had already settled her purse, readjusted her oversized sunglasses, and finished prepping for the day, certain that she was looking her finest before jogging across the parking lot to where she saw her longtime boyfriend looking right back at her. Her small steps bounced to emphasize the way she so ironically fit the stereotype of the damsel that needed constant protection. A bright smile overtook her face to show off the teeth that had only recently been freed from braces.

This next distraction was again only half welcome. As she came closer, Nicu’s grip on his backpack strap tightened out of fear, as he looked nervously at the other brunette, as though he fully expected to be called out right then and there. He only turned away when the girl came right up, taking his hand and bouncing again to hit his jaw with a little peck.

“Good morning, guys,” she simply oozed cheer, still bouncing on her toes as she stood pressed closely beside her boy. Apparently, she didn’t notice anything odd in Nicu, not the sweat on the palm she held so tightly, nor how tense the chest she leaned her head against was, not even how coldly her greeting had been ignored. On any regular day, the handhold was turned into a half hug and the peck was swiftly returned in a ritualistic greeting that was used for even the most casual of encounters.