[Closed] No matter where I go or whore my mind, I'll always stumble home
CHARACTERS: mangemouth and ruineaxt
LOCATION/SETTING: 707, Badou's room.
DATE & TIME Aug. 14th, midday
WARNINGS Swearing, junkietalk, the usual. **also hardcore drug use** I warned you all seriously.
SUMMARY: Badou is back at the academy, and Shinjiro needs to sort his thoughts. For them, it's the equivalent of a warm reunion.
It wasn't loneliness. That was a different feeling altogether, a much sadder longing higher up in the chest, rather than the current sinking and knotting in the pit of his stomach. He didn't feel any more need for people around or interaction than usual-- hell, he'd been fine for weeks after classes had let out, even so far as encouraging his friend-- his brother as the other man packed his things and talked about everything but the fact that he was returning alone. It had never really been acknowledged between them, always speaking as though there wouldn't be that separation. But even through that, he had been alright. He wasn't lonely. Shinjiro simply lacked direction.
There was no point in him staying at Reims. He wasn't a good student, or from a prestigious family (or a family at all,) and no one could honestly say that they expected him to make something for himself once he left. it was a waste of time and money-- but it served the purpose of giving him that much more time to escape.
He wasn't lonely. That was fucking retarded. But he missed that clarity that came from bouncing ideas off someone, speaking distantly and with that unsaid, mutual agreement to never verbally delve too far into things. He needed something: vindication for his decision to stay, a distraction from the painfully silent lack of nagging and overbearing, or even discussion completely off any of the topics. He wasn't picky, and it hadn't taken too long to hear that Badou had returned from Andorra-- not that the searing, familiar scent of burning paper and leaves left in his wake hadn't been a close enough clue.
And so, as though nothing had happened, or the summer hadn't passed with minimal contact, Shinjiro tested the knob to Badou's room, finding it unlocked, and let himself in. If Badou wasn't home, he'd chill on his roommate's bed. If he was, all the better.
"Hey, you up?"
LOCATION/SETTING: 707, Badou's room.
DATE & TIME Aug. 14th, midday
WARNINGS Swearing, junkietalk, the usual. **also hardcore drug use** I warned you all seriously.
SUMMARY: Badou is back at the academy, and Shinjiro needs to sort his thoughts. For them, it's the equivalent of a warm reunion.
It wasn't loneliness. That was a different feeling altogether, a much sadder longing higher up in the chest, rather than the current sinking and knotting in the pit of his stomach. He didn't feel any more need for people around or interaction than usual-- hell, he'd been fine for weeks after classes had let out, even so far as encouraging his friend-- his brother as the other man packed his things and talked about everything but the fact that he was returning alone. It had never really been acknowledged between them, always speaking as though there wouldn't be that separation. But even through that, he had been alright. He wasn't lonely. Shinjiro simply lacked direction.
There was no point in him staying at Reims. He wasn't a good student, or from a prestigious family (or a family at all,) and no one could honestly say that they expected him to make something for himself once he left. it was a waste of time and money-- but it served the purpose of giving him that much more time to escape.
He wasn't lonely. That was fucking retarded. But he missed that clarity that came from bouncing ideas off someone, speaking distantly and with that unsaid, mutual agreement to never verbally delve too far into things. He needed something: vindication for his decision to stay, a distraction from the painfully silent lack of nagging and overbearing, or even discussion completely off any of the topics. He wasn't picky, and it hadn't taken too long to hear that Badou had returned from Andorra-- not that the searing, familiar scent of burning paper and leaves left in his wake hadn't been a close enough clue.
And so, as though nothing had happened, or the summer hadn't passed with minimal contact, Shinjiro tested the knob to Badou's room, finding it unlocked, and let himself in. If Badou wasn't home, he'd chill on his roommate's bed. If he was, all the better.
"Hey, you up?"