INTRO LOG

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[[Exactly what it says on the tin! This is just an initial log to sort of get things started and is largely freeform, open to (but not limited to):

-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dorm shenanigans meetings
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!

There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]

Comments

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Already blaming me. [a sigh. He'll never get it.

Which the question proves, but it does offer the chance to get a bit more leverage from that punch. He leans close again, skates his thumb lightly over the bruised skin - then pushes down on it, hard.]

Petre. You'll never, ever be sexy to me.

[broil]

[OW. And Petre actually winces away, slapping John's hand.]

You're responsible for my new make-up, at least be decent enough to compliment it.

[flapping his hand at John like he's swatting a fly.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[he laughs delightedly at that reaction.]

This is what you wanted. To keep things as they are.

[broil]

And you actually did something I told you to? Be still my heart.

[arranging his hair now.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Nah, I would've done that even if we were friends. You deserved it for the stupid question.

[broil]

And now I'm just resentful.

[must you ruin everything!]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

One day you might even resent me so much you decide to just avoid me.

[see? He can scheme too.]

[broil]

Unlikely. Hate sex is amazing.

[wise words John]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[How many ways can he rephrase "you are never having sex with me"?]

For fuck's sake. I'm starting to think a maybe would actually cool you down a bit.

[broil]

[never say nevr]

Maybe.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Alright, maybe. One day. You get hell to freeze over and maybe I will fuck you.

[broil]

Poor choice of words. I could probably get the Devil to do that for me.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Right. You get on that.

[broil]

[salutes.]

I'll look up some Satanic rituals.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Don't let any demons loose in our room, we fuck it up badly enough as it is.

[smiling. Joking. The friendship that almost was. John shifts around to face front again, frowning down at his lighter.]

[broil]

You might've just found a demon in me.

[because noodles can't resist]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Fuck, wouldn't that explain a lot.

[the set up and the slam dunk. Aw yeah.

Anyway, he's got a flame up again, just letting his fingers dance over it. Reshaping it in subtle ways. Mindless but focussing. Soothing. It can take him in either direction, depending on the situation and how he uses it.]

You want what you can't have. In your version, you get it hooked. Prove it as wrong as possible. Best guess, then you get bored and move on. [his gaze slides back toward petre.] You ever think about how fast that'll blow up in a fishbowl like this?

[broil]

[He tilts his head slightly, like John just said something completely unintelligible.]

You should understand that better than anyone, John. Isn't that what fire's all about? Eat it up until there's nothing left. Once it's ash, then you let it go.

[Greed, lust, wrath and gluttony all tied up in a velvet bag.

His hand is closed into a fist. Then, like sand from his hand, he opens up and lets it go.]

We're the same, Johnny. You know me better than anyone. And you know we can't be contained, no matter how hard these walls are.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[They're not the same in the slightest, he thinks fiercely. But he's smiling. A fevered, manic smile.

Interpersonal drama wan't exactly how he saw this going down. But it's osmall>ne way of proving the school, and especially the Professor, incompetent. And then a power and stability vacuum.]

Makes a pretty picture the way you paint it.

[this is exactly how he got suckered in the first time. We, us, enough to make him forget that he's the ashes rather than the fire when it comes to petre. Everyone else is.]

[broil]

[He likes that smile. To him, that's the real John. The monster lying in the center of an angry little boy. There aren't many like him in a place like this, not when they're being brainwashed with the dreams and hopes of a day where all will be equal and holding hands to the sound of We are the world.

He doesn't care about any of that. When they found Petre it was too late. There was no boy left, just the monster.]

It's the way I see it. [and he leans back, relaxed again. Like he doesn't have a swollen eye after all.]

Isn't it the way it is?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[John looks at Petre for a long time. Not an examination or a stare but a roving look, putting pieces together into a whole. He does occasionally land somewhere for a second longer than the others, though, and the thought that Petre's lips always look like he's just been kissed enters his mind for a millisecond before he forces it out.

Eventually, he's just looking Petre in the eye. Both blue-eyed, but John's are so dark that they can be mistaken for brown with a quick look, and Petre's often strike him as unnaturally pale. Negative images, but still similar.]

It's turning purple now. Not really your colour. [The bruise. Don't forget that he will always, always strike back, no matter how powerless you think he is.]

[broil]

[He could stare just for a moment longer; Petre might just forget what self-control is and smack a hand around John's nape, force him closer and prove him right about those lips.

Don't they say that prolonged eye-contact means someone either wants to fight or fuck you? Why not both.

An exhale. There's a smile edging at the corner of his lips.]

Something to remember you by. I knew you really cared.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Just make sure you remember the right things.

[When he breaks the stare and turns his head, it's with a hard swallow. That energy is always present with Petre. John is certain he works to cultivate it. And it always repulses him, but the reaction is so strong. Just once he'dlike to be able to ignore it.]

[broil]

I always remember the right things.

[What's right to him, anyway.

He reaches for John's hand, cups his palm around the flame. No heat, no burn. If that isn't a sign that they're meant to touch - then what is.

But he doesn't make contact. It's just flame, just energy.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[John's very aware of that hand reaching for him, once again coiled to strike, but he looks down in surprise when no touch comes. The symbolism is definitely not lost on him - fire rendered useless by their unique skin, fueled by him, nullified by Petre. It's a gesture of camaraderie and one of control.

Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, he finally jerks his hand away and puts out the flame with his customary snuffing gesture, fingers folded into his palm. A fist. Not totally lacking in symbolism either.]