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#1
Old 07-18-2014, 05:04 AM

Throwing the buzzing alarm clock clear across the room, Gary relished the sweet sound of cracking metal. Sure, it was the fourth alarm clock to meet its demise that month, but he had enough emergency backups. Besides, it hadn't shut up even when he hit the button---it must have been broken. He turned away from the yellow light streaming in from outside and huffed, pulling the nearest thing over his face to hide away from the sun. Whatever it was, it was smallish, dark. He squinted and pulled a face, throwing the underwear away from him and rolling over again, wrapped up so tightly in his sheet that he had to wriggle out of it and flop, exhausted, on top of the crumpled blankets. Then he closed is eyes to continue hating the headache and cottonmouth he had to endure until, most likely, the next day. Gary had taught himself to stop drinking hard liquor, then went ahead and did it again, at about eleven last night. Why, he couldn't remember, but sooner or later that luxury would wear off too. He remember what he drank, no doubt---tequila, and then some random offbrand whisky he'd picked up because it was the first thing he saw.

He stood and wobbled, working his tongue through the sticky sandpaper that he called a mouth, as if he ate glue followed by a mouthful of beach. Gathering up his dirty clothes---why were they scattered all over his room?---he tossed them into the hamper and grabbed some fresh things from the closet, a pair of plain whitewash jeans that hung loose and low off his hips and a buttondown shirt that he rarely buttoned at all. Tossing them and the rest over his arm, he went to the bathroom across the hall from his bedroom and tossed it all onto the countertop beside the door, stepping into a shower that wavered somewhere beneath hypothermia-inducing. He shivered, worked hard to get himself clean in the barrage of ice bullets, and shuddered hard, getting out of the shower quickly and rubbing himself hard with a towel to get some feeling back into his body.

Why was he hating everything? Looking at himself in the mirror, Gary grimaced. His hair, a deep reddish-maroon he liked to dye, stood on end and over one eye not of his own will. It never listened to him. The eye it was hiding was dark. Had he been in a fight? He wasn't one to fight. He wasn't much of a fan of confrontation, either. Sighing and blinking hard, Gary turned the light off and buttoned only one button on his shirt, shuffling out of the bathroom and to the stairs that led directly into the kitchen. The thought of food made him feel like gagging, but he had to eat something. It was just the question of what, and how, exactly, it would interact with the chemicals that had yet to leave his body.

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#2
Old 07-18-2014, 05:42 AM

He kept running, his feet hitting the pavement in a blur of motion as he moved at speed down the street. He didn't know why he was running, or what he was fleeing from, all he knew was that he couldn't stop.

He had run into a town, but the surroundings weren't familiar to him at all. He couldn't even remember his name or where he had been. But yet some things were clear in his mind. He knew that he would tire soon. His feet were sore and his legs felt like jelly. He also knew that it was becoming daytime, as light painted the dark sky overhead. He slowed down, feeling disorientated. The buildings here were decorated with pumpkins and bats, which set him on edge. The town had a very scary feeling, and he wasn't sure why.

Looking around for a place to rest, he found an empty bench near the road. He somehow knew this was where people caught buses, though he had no idea what a bus was. He sat down and tried to calm his panting, looking down at his bare feet. His skin was bloodied and pale. He wondered what had happened to his shoes. Did he not have time to put them on? Suddenly he felt strange. Blinking, he felt as though he had been misplaced. He was no longer sitting on the bench. Somehow he had found himself in someone's backyard, sitting in a tree. He sobbed quietly, not knowing what had happened.

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#3
Old 07-18-2014, 05:55 AM

Making what he was sure was an ugly face, Gary stared at the coffee filtering through to drip into the pot below. He swayed to the left and the right, overcorrecting sometimes because he was still trapped between a trifecta of hangover, sleepiness, and still-slightly-drunk. He was so stupid. Damn his stupid male brain. No, he didn't want to talk about whatever was frustrating him. Didn't want to go any logical way. Did punch something, because his right hand was aching like he'd smashed a brick wall with his knuckles. But he hadn't hit brick, because his knuckles weren't cut open. They were just bruised. Sighing, he turned a little too fast and leaned against the counter to reorient himself. "Shiii..." The curse died on his lips. He didn't want to exert himself right now.

Yawning, he pulled a loaf of bread from its box and set it on the counter while the smell of coffee began to fill the entire room. Soon he would hopefully not have such an awful pounding in his head. Soon wasn't soon enough, in his opinion. Gary puffed out a breath, sending his hair fluttering and then limply slapping his forehead again. Then he heard a snap.

Startling, he dropped the half-opened bread bag and went to retrieve it, banging his head on the counter as he went down. Cursing in a gibberish language, he stumbled out of the kitchen and to the back door, rubbing his forehead and wondering how dark the bruise would be. What was that noise? It sounded like... a snapping branch? No, a small-caliber gun going off. Something between the two. Scanning the outside, the high privacy fence, the flowers and lawn he so carefully tended, he gasped when he saw something in one of his two oak trees. What the hell? He unlocked the door, stepping outside. A young man. How had he even gotten into the back yard...? "Hey..." He called as loudly as he dared. The mix of pounding head and caution made his voice sound feeble.

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#4
Old 07-19-2014, 01:27 AM

He started when he heard the voice and looked down. The man looked as though he had just woken up, and he looked worse for wear. He didn't want to cause any trouble, slipping slowly from the tree and hanging his head. "I'm s-sorry... I... I d-don't know how..." He stopped. Hearing his voice had startled him more than reappearing in a tree and being approached by the house's owner. He hadn't expected it to sound so... Scared. He swallowed and looked up at the man.

"I... I just... I'm sorry t-to interrupt you... I'll go n-now..." He turned to walk away, around the house and onto the street. He limped, his bloodied feet sore.

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#5
Old 07-19-2014, 02:12 AM

Blinking several times, Gary wasn't quite sure what to do. Or say. By the time he recovered---which felt like sluggish minutes---the young guy had run around the house. He shook his aching head and twisted around, stumbling a little until he got his footing and went around the house, following the apparent blood on the grass. Blood? Had he been running without shoes...? "Hey!" He caught up quickly, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "What... where'd you come from? How'd you get in my back yard in the first place...?" He could have unlocked it after he was inside, but not beforehand. Not unless he had a wire to slip in between the door and the rest of the fence. And there were no branches low enough on the outside of the fence to grab onto and haul himself up and over the fence.

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#6
Old 07-19-2014, 05:24 AM

He jumped at being touched by the other, turning around and throwing his arms up to protect his face. The string of questions were exactly what was whirling in his head. He stroked his hair, noting how deep blue it was. Somehow he knew this wasn't 'normal'. "I-I don't know... I... I can't r-remember much..." It was the truth. He couldn't remember where he had been, why he was running and he didn't know how he teleported himself into this man's tree.

"I... I just... I just remember... A white r-room..." He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard, straining his memory. Nothing else came to him. "I... Don't even... Know wh-who I am..."

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#7
Old 07-19-2014, 05:31 AM

Gary took his hand away quickly, grimacing at how the guy seemed to behave. Afraid, confused, lost... And he had a wicked stutter. Was he on drugs? His eyes, though confused and wide, looked clear and watchful. "Look, guy, I'm not gonna hurt you..." He put a hand to his own head to massage the pain there. "How about you get off the street... you're bleeding... I'll wrap up your feet, hell, give you some of my shoes at least. Just... come with me and get off the street before the cops pick you up." He put a hand behind the blue-haired young man, keeping himself as generic and unthreatening as possible, which wasn't hard when he looked like he'd gone through a ten-round punchfest with Mike Tyson.

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#8
Old 07-23-2014, 09:47 PM

He considered running for it. Even though this man spoke kindly, he looked like he had been in a few fights. Maybe it was just a front to convince him to come into the house, away from others that might hear? He shook his head. Somehow he knew that this man was being genuine. He was thankful and smiled, nodding and following the man back inside his house.

"I... I don't ev-even know wh-what happened to my shoes," he commented, looking down at his bloodied feet. "Or... If I h-had any to b-begin with."

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#9
Old 07-24-2014, 01:30 AM

What the hell? Gary blinked and went silent for a moment. They had to go around the house and through the back door since the front was still locked. Was this guy a runaway? Or a refugee of some sort, the victim of a kidnapping or some kind of violence? An escapee from a mental ward? No, that last one couldn't be it. Who would give a crazy access to hair dye? And were those eyes from contacts? He shook his head. "Well, I got some." He said, latching the gate with its simple slide lock and going to open the door for the guy. "Name's Gary." He said, nodding him inside. "Gary Lloyd." Wherever he came from, it couldn't be speculated on. Gary would just scare himself silly, and that was a stupid thing to do. Bringing up where he came from didn't seem like a smart idea since he didn't even know where his shoes went, if he even had them.

 


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