fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

[God, that actually gets to him. Because he presents himself as the one who gives no shits, not a one, and then his temper flares up and the shits go through the roof. Everyone thinks he's crazy and/or riddled with angst, rather than just laughing at this stupid school and all it stands for.

Seeing through him. Another annoying attribute to add to Petre's list.]

I'd be happier if you'd shut up once in a blue moon. [Weak, an almost childish comeback.] Not now, alright?

But then I wouldn't be able to talk to you, Johnny. One of us has to.

[smiling, even if he's looking at the back of John's head.]

What's your problem with the word?

[That's the idea, he thinks irritably, but Petre knows that. This whole thing is getting catty and childish. He sighs, rolling onto his back, and pulls his shoulders up to his ears for a moment before letting them drop. His whole body feels like it's knotted up since walking in here and seeing Petre, coiled for a strike he won't make.]

I'll talk, just not about that. Find something else.

[to which he tilts his head and frowns in a very oh, come on manner.]

Don't make me do this the easy way.

[he'll use his power on you.]

[His jaw sets again and he glares hard at the ceiling.]

I heard it a lot as a kid. [Which traces things back to his major hot-button issue.] A lot. Generally and then personally.

[a pause. He toys with his fingers, something more deliberate than just fidgetting.]

Worse things they could've called you.

It wasn't the intensity, it was the regularity. [Now he sits up, rolling his shoulders again and twisting to stretch his back. This isn't helping with the tension, and several small pops go off as he does it.] Situation. Context. A lot of things.

[he wouldn't mind getting his hands on those shoulders. Seeing where skin covers muscle.]

They're behind you now. So treat it that way.

[He shoots another glare at Petre, but only because he's right. He should've let them go a long time ago, and usually pretends he does. Having this forced out of him is galling to say the least.

And if it were anyone else, he might not turn down that offer. Lugging the suitcase around didn't do wonders for his shoulder muscles either, one side of which he's now kneading with a scowl.]

Yeah. I know.

I'm not forgetting, though. Not until I can find them again and finish what I started.

[His eyes dart toward the bathroom door. Maybe a shower'll relax him, since the doors lock, thank god...]

[that sounds ominous, so - obviously it interests Petre.]

I'm surprised they didn't stick you in therapy for that. Or do they just wan you to use your rage.

I don't just walk around saying it.

[But he did. Which means it'll probably get around like - so to speak - wildfire now.]

I'm going for a shower. [He swings his legs around, gets up off the bed with one last stretch.] Do me a favour and be asleep when I come out.

Our headmaster's the world's most powerful psychic. It's not like you have to.

[just saying. And then he perks up at the mention of a shower.]

Let me know if you need help. I get incredibly bored when I'm alone.

Then I guess he actually realizes it'll be no loss to the world too.

[Oh god, the look he gives Petre at that. It does give him an idea, though - he's got a power here that he's not using, doesn't he? Sure, it kind of creeps him out, but if he gets over that - it could be hilarious.

When he comes out of his shower, it's bare-chested with his hair hanging loose and damp over his forehead, a towel wrapped around his waist.

He's got his boxers on underneath, but does Petre need to know that?]

So much better. [He stands at the foot of Petre's bed and stretches more deliberately this time, turning one way and then the other, subtly watching for a reaction.]

[A pause, as he glances at John and then scans him until his eyes are back on his features.

He hopes John knows he's smarter than that.]

Aw. Still no chest hair. No, wait - [He shifts, takes a closer look, hand hovering over John's body.] I think I see one. Two? Maybe even three. I need my glasses for this.

[This time, when he grabs Petre's hand and moves it away, it's an easier motion. Slow and deliberate, like with a child reaching for the cookie jar.]

Look as close as you want. It's all you're ever gonna get. Just call this taking pity.

[His hands play around the top of the towel, where it's tucked in, but don't remove it yet.]

And don't pretend you don't like it.

[He tongues his cheek, bites his lower lip with the beginning of a laugh.]

Who's pretending?

[Not him. He leans back on the bed with both hands, shoulders inched up, legs crossed. His eyes glance at John's wandering hand, just briefly enough to be seen doing it.]

Fire boy thinks he's untouchable. A bit cliché, don't you think.

Edited 2014-09-13 14:14 (UTC)

What, just 'cause you can't touch me?

[He leans over the bed a little and actually touches Petre, just this one, sliding a finger down his cheek to his chin. Taking the bullet for the full performance.]

You're just shit out of luck, that's all.

[He laughs, now.]

What are you trying to do? Takes more than your twink body and a finger to get me hard, you know.

[Not that he's opposed to the thought.]

I'm sure your sick, twisted imagination can come up with the rest. Just wanted to inspire you, that's all. Give you more material for whatever weird shit you keep deluding yourself is gonna happen between us.

[He laughs himself, before straightening up and heading toward his dresser. It's true, he's more relaxed - and enjoying this, much as Petre isn't giving a whole lot in return - and that means sweats and crashing out. Fuck, it's been A Day.

He's bent over to get to one of the lower drawers when he finally loosens his towel, slowly lets it drop. Oh well. His ass is still a pretty good view in his boxers.]

Awfully generous of you. [He tilts his head for a better look. He can still appreciate your twink body, John, don't even worry about it.] What changed your mind?

I haven't changed my mind about anything. [Let's just make that perfectly clear.] Just finally figured out how funny it all is.

[Stepping into his sweatpants, pulling on a t-shirt. He rakes his hair off his forehead, a near-constant habit when it's not slicked back and one that does nothing to keep it off his forehead, then falls back onto his bed with his arms out.]

Show really is over now, though.

Oh, good. You could use a laugh here and there. Get that stick out of your ass, it'll hurt less.

[Then he watches him flop down.]

I'll always take whatever I can get.

[And whatever he can get away with.]

Are you going to sleep now?

You've got a comprehension problem, Petre. The only thing wrong with me right now is you. Everything else is fucking great, you just never see it because - surprise - you're the issue.

[He considers the question, then decides to get back up and crawl under the covers this time.]

I don't sleep much. Consider this a blanket "don't give a shit" if I wake you up.

[Bad dreams and three years constantly on his guard, sleeping on everything but beds. He's just hoping the bad dreams don't hit too hard, because Petre doesn't need to see him wake up screaming.]

[He wouldn't mind seeing John scream. You know. While they bone.]

See, that's just it. I'm only the issue with you. Nobody else thinks I'm a problem.

[That's a lot of denial or a lot of bullshit. He picks at his nails, sees how they look.]

That's why the stuck us together.

Because you fuck with their heads. Whatever the hell you do. I dunno why I get the free pass to know what a dipshit you actually are, but look at how well you make friends when you're not making them believe whatever you want.

[He's turned to face Petre again, fully engaged in the argument he just gave up a few minutes ago. Goddamnit.]

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